The Year of the Weasley Scarves
by MandyinKC
Summary: In the autumn after the Battle of Hogwarts, the dust has finally settled for all of the Weasleys, but two...
1. Part 1: At Loose Ends

Author's Note: I wrote this story earlier this year and have just been sitting on it. Aside from a few (really bad) drabbles and random scenes, this was the first thing I really wrote in a really, really long time. So, for that reason, it's special to me. It started out as two images and grew into seven chapters. It is finished, so don't worry. I will post one chapter a week every Tuesday. I hope you enjoy…

Thank you to slenderpanda597 for her great beta work!

This is dedicated to my best friend, Lori, who was so encouraging as I was returning to writing. And, you know, for 25 years' worth of being besties and all that entails (most of it disgusting and had better never be repeated to another living soul.)

Disclaimer: The world and characters (most of them) belong to JK Rowling.

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The Year of the Weasley Scarves

Part One: At Loose Ends

It took some time for the dust to finally settle. In fact, it was exactly September 2, when it finally did. Ginny and Hermione had been sent off to Hogwarts. George, Ron and Harry were living above the joke shop in a flat meant for two, but it was no matter as Harry was beginning Auror training soon. Ron, on the other hand, was helping George run the shop. That's where Percy says he wants to be, but he has been persuaded (temporarily, he claims) to return to the Ministry to guide it through the reorganization. Bill and Arthur had been back at their respective jobs for months now, but the work load was never ceasing as it seems the whole world was in chaos in the wake of the war. Charlie has been back to Romania for months, although more than the dragons had called him back this time. Even Audrey had found some new crusade to serve. So, only two were left at loose ends.

Fleur had spent the summer organizing the return of the Muggleborn refugees she had spent the previous year smuggling out of the country, but that job was over now. She did not fancy returning to Gringotts. She had never particularly liked the work there, it had never called to her. And truly, she knew she could do greater things than be a secretary to the most unpleasant goblin in all of England.

"Take your time," Bill had said one night in late August as she made the final arrangements for the return of the Cattermoles. "With the kind of overtime I am putting in lately I doubt you'll ever need to go to work again if you didn't want to."

Fleur had looked up from her parchment. Her poor Bill, still the weight of the world on his shoulders. She wished she could say that he no longer feared for the safety of his loved ones, but she knew that was not so. Secretly, he feared that George might never recover from Fred's death. Fred's death was hard on everyone, of course, but George was devastated. She put aside her quill and went to straddle her husband's lap and massage his scalp.

"Rich as Midas, _oui_?"

Bill's hands came to rest low on her waist and he closed his eyes.

"Something like that." He looked at her then with sleepy eyes. "So, do you have any idea what you want to do with yourself now that there is no war to fight, Mrs. Weasley?"

Fleur shook her head.

"I do not know. I did not know at seventeen and I do not know now."

"You're brilliant, you could be anything you like."

She gave a very Gaelic shrug.

"It is silly, _non_? Zat we are supposed to know what we want to do so young? My great-_grand-pere_ lived to be 175, he had five careers and six wives."

"Six wives?" Bill asked, astonished. "How many children did he have?"

"Eighteen, but zat is not zee point."

"Blimey, and I thought us Weasleys were prolific. How old was he when the last one was born?"

Fleur smiled fondly, content to allow him to take the conversation in a different direction, albeit a silly one in her opinion. She liked it when Bill was in a frivolous mood, he was not allowed these moments often. "He was 146, it was _mon grand-pere_ and he was born zee same day as his fifty-second grandchild."

As September rolled on, Audrey dropped in for tea in her whirlwind fashion.

"Percy says 'hello,' by the way."

"And tell him _'bonjour_,' from me," Fleur responded, stirring milk into her tea.

"I was thinking, Fleur, that you should come to work at the orphanage with me," Audrey announced as she leaned against the worktop and took a sip of tea. "The war has left so many orphans and we could use all the help we can get settling them and getting them treatment."

Fleur watched her friend silently from where she sat daintily at the butcher's block, saucer in one hand, cup in the other. Her mind latched onto the word 'treatment.' Fleur wondered if that referred to physical needs or mental ones. Sadly, she suspected it was both.

"I have been telling Madam Spreewell about you," Audrey continued, she was always so excited when she was developing a new plan. "About all the work you did during the war. You know you have a right good hand for organization and planning. Plus you and I already know that we work well together. We could really use people…"

But Fleur wasn't listening. Maybe it made her a bad person, but she did not want to work at the orphanage. She was tired of misery.

Then, one day in mid-September, Fleur Apparated to the Burrow with a surplus of lettuce from her fall garden. She rather hoped to trade it for some potatoes or maybe some canned tomatoes. But as she walked up to the garden, something did not seem right, but she wasn't sure what exactly. Cautiously, she drew out her wand and approached the back door.

Only to find Molly sitting at the table with a cup of tea.

Fleur let herself in and set her basket on the counter, which still held dirty pans from…breakfast? But it was past lunchtime. She looked about shrewdly. A thin layer of dust covered every surface. There was a pile of laundry in the corner, washed, folded even, but not put away. The windows were closed up, despite it being a lovely day outside. Then, she realized what was wrong with the garden. It was overrun and overgrown.

And the woman before her seemed in much the same state.

"_Bonjour_, Mum," Fleur trilled, pasting a smile on her face.

Molly did not respond, so Fleur kissed her cheek and reached in front of Molly to take the cup of tea. It was full and cold. Fleur Vanished the liquid and rinsed it.

"Have you had lunch yet? I brought lettuce from my garden, it is doing very well zis year. I can make us a nice salad, _oui_?"

"That would be nice, dear."

So, that afternoon, Fleur went about putting the Burrow back to the state that Molly Weasley kept it. Fleur put the clothes away and dusted the furniture. She did the dishes and opened the windows to let in the breeze. She even cut some late roses and put them by Molly's bed. She prepared a quiche and resolved to tackle the garden the next day if the rain held. (But this was blasted England and she did not hold out hope.)

Finally, she brushed Molly's hair. This seemed to comfort both women. When Fleur was finished, Molly stood and gave her a wan smile. Then she drifted upstairs like a ghost. When she didn't return, Fleur went to check and found her mother-in-law in bed fast asleep.

So, there was nothing left to do but wait.

Finally, at half nine, Arthur strolled in looking haggard and exhausted. He was shocked to find Fleur sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. But he found a smile for her and sent his things off to their rightful place.

"Good evening, my dear," he said pleasantly. "Is Bill here with you? Where is Molly?"

"Bill is at work still and Molly is in bed."

His face fell.

"Oh."

"Wash up," Fleur instructed. "I made a quiche."

A few minutes later, Arthur sat at the head of the table enjoying Fleur's cooking. It didn't go unnoticed that the house was cleaner and fresher than it had been in weeks and he suspected that it had more to do with his daughter-in-law than his wife. He hadn't missed the bouquet of roses by the bed when he'd gone up to check on Molly. That was the work of Fleur's hand.

"How long has she been like zis?" Fleur asked quietly, she had a cup of tea in front of her. Normally, it would amuse Arthur to see how this very French girl had picked up this so very English habit.

"Since we sent the girls off to Hogwarts," he admitted.

"Zat was weeks ago!"

Arthur hung his head. He had nothing to add to that.

"Why didn't you tell—" Fleur stopped. She had been about to demand why he hadn't told her, but why would he tell her? She was only the daughter-in-law. "Why didn't you tell Bill?"

Arthur sighed heavily.

"At first I thought she would come through it quickly enough…" He shut his eyes, he was so very tired. "I suppose I didn't want to worry any of you. Especially Bill, he has been so strong for all of us in the wake of…It's not fair that he should shoulder such burdens at so young an age."

Fleur's lips thinned.

"Zank you, I suppose. It has been hard for Bill. He zinks zat he has to be strong all zee time, but it takes its toll, _non_?"

"Yes, that is so like Bill."

"But I cannot keep zis from him," Fleur insisted. "He would want to know zat his mozzer is…" She looked at the stairs as if she could see all the way up to the third floor and around the corner to check on Molly in her bed. "What is wrong wiz her?"

"Grief."

"But she was doing so well zis summer. What changed?"

"Can't you guess?"

Fleur cocked her head to one side.

"Everybody left," she stated. "Zere was no one left to take care of."

"Nothing left to do," Arthur agreed sadly. "She's at loose ends."

He reached out and squeezed her hand. Fleur was amazed at Arthur's capacity for empathy. Here they were, talking about his wife's crushing grief, and Arthur was comforting Fleur. He was such a special man and she felt sorry for the world that so often overlooked a man as humble as Arthur Weasley for it was truly missing something great.

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A/N2: Thanks for reading. Hope to see you again next Tuesday. And, _psst_, don't forget to review…


	2. Part 2: Tending and Tenderness

Part Two: Tending and Tenderness

Florid French profanity could be heard in the Weasley garden the next day as Fleur was bit for the fifth time by a garden gnome. She stood, sweaty and dirty and cross, and gave the ugly little creature a kick. She thought of all the perverse joy in the smiles of Fred and George as they hurled gnomes out of the garden and now she understood. Horrible little beasts.

"Why are you catching and throwing them?"

Andromeda Tonks stood at the gate, little Teddy on her hip, a rather amused expression on her face.

"Zis is zee way zee boys degnome zee garden," Fleur responded, rather stupidly in her opinion.

"The boys?" Mrs. Tonks repeated, one eyebrow cocked. "You mean the young men that Molly raised, including your husband? My dear, this is the way they do it because Molly sent them to degnome the garden as a punishment when they were children. Meaning before they could use magic. Now, are you a witch or not?"

Fleur could feel her mouth hanging open. Oh, that Mrs. Tonks drove her mad! She had perfect manners and she used them to slyly laugh at a person that was both obvious and subtle. She always left Fleur feeling rather inferior. She had said this to Bill once and he had laughed incredulously.

_"You'll find that she's not so bad once you get to know her," he had said, then kissed the top of her head and sauntered away, leaving Fleur in a huff. _

While Fleur stewed over her latest encounter with the indomitable Mrs. Tonks, the older woman strolled up the path and into the Burrow after the briefest knock. Belatedly, Fleur realized that she should have stopped the older woman, warned her.

Quickly enough, Mrs. Tonks reappeared, stricken and pale. She thrust Teddy into Fleur's arms.

"Take him. I'll…Just take him please."

And the normally composed woman nearly ran out of the gate and in the direction of the orchard. Fleur knew all too well what the other woman had found inside. Molly was no better today than she had been when Fleur found her the day before. She wondered what it meant to a woman whose grief was equal to Molly's, greater even, to see the strong and fierce Mrs. Weasley so broken?

Teddy tugged on a loose tendril of Fleur's hair and giggled. She looked at the boy and, in spite of everything, smiled. His blue hair suddenly turned the same silvery blond as hers.

"Well," she cooed in French, "you are already a charmer, _monsieur_. But, I warn you, flattery will get you nowhere."

He buried his face into her neck, snuffling sweetly against her sweaty skin. Not for the first time in Teddy's presence, Fleur felt her heart melt.

"Come, _mon petit puce_, let us see if you are the remedy to what ails us, _oui_?"

Fleur brought Teddy inside, finding Molly in her rocking chair by the fire, right where Fleur had left her.

"Look who I have here, Mum! It is _Monsieur_ Lupin, _notre petit ami_!"

Molly looked up and smiled. It was a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She focused for a moment on Teddy.

"He's gotten big."

"_Oui_. So big!" Fleur said to Teddy, her smile growing. Teddy clapped in response, his hair going blue once more. "Did you see zat? He clapped!"

"Yes, dear."

Fleur could sense Molly's attention waning. Desperately, Fleur brought Teddy to Molly's side.

"Take him, _sil te plaît_? I am very dirty, I must wash up."

Fleur watched her mother-in-law expectantly. Molly would not turn down a chance to hold a baby, especially not Teddy, who even now was turning his hair red like Molly's.

"Oh, look, Mum, zis is what Bill must have looked like as a _bebe_, _non_?"

Molly stroked the baby's red locks.

"No, like Fred and George. The others were all bald."

Fleur bit her lip, wishing away the tears that were burning her eyes. She didn't dare speak for she would begin to cry in earnest and she could not bear it. Such sadness was in the other woman's voice. Fleur suddenly wondered what she was doing here? Molly already seemed so lost. Fleur felt like she did after the debacle in the Black Lake during the Triwizard Tournament; unequal to the task.

"Take him away please," Molly croaked, tears falling down her face.

There was a great sucking feeling in Fleur's chest as she stumbled outside, Teddy on her hip. She stood in the garden, sad and hurt. Trying, painfully, not to cry. _I must focus on Teddy_, she told herself and so she summoned a blanket from the house. She spread it out in the garden and set wards around it to keep the baby in and the gnomes out.

As soon as she put him down, Teddy rolled to his tummy and pushed up onto his knees. He rocked back and forth, looking up at Fleur and babbling all the while. Fleur smiled back, finding it not so hard to stash away her sadness when in Teddy's company. Soon she found herself blowing kisses on his chubby cheeks just to hear his sweet laughter and conjuring her Patronus for his amusement. He was mesmerized by the great lioness as she stalked about the garden frightening the blasted gnomes.

Finally, he fell asleep. Fleur knew that she should go about her work, yet she found herself watching the baby sleep. She memorized the slow rhythm of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, the soft curve of his cheek, the way his mouth moved as if he were suckling. She traced his hairline with one dirty finger, wishing he would turn his hair red again so that she could pretend that he belonged to her and Bill.

"It's easy to get lost in his sweetness."

Fleur jumped a mile, her wand out and pointed at the intruder.

Mrs. Tonks held her hands up in surrender.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Fleur narrowed her eyes, but lowered her wand.

"You have a gift for sneaking up on a person, I zink."

"I was clumsy as Dora as a girl," Mrs. Tonks replied with an elegant shrug. "But clumsiness is frowned upon in the Nobel and Most Ancient of Black, so I learned grace. I never had the heart to beat it out of Dora."

Fleur didn't comment, but lowered the wards so that Mrs. Tonks could sit on the blanket next to Teddy. On closer inspection, the older woman's eyes were puffy and her nose was red.

"I'm sorry I did not warn you," Fleur said.

"It was certainly a shock." Then, "If it weren't for Teddy, I suspect I would be in much the same state. I don't know if I should be frightened for Molly or jealous of her."

Mrs. Tonks head fell into her hands and she tore at her chestnut hair. She made an incredulous sound, but she did not start crying. Fleur supposed that the other woman had no tears left to cry.

"What a sad state life has come to if I envy Molly Weasley her stupor. There are nights when I want to go out to the back garden and scream at the sky until the damned stars crash at my feet, but I don't. Wouldn't want to frighten Teddy. And what good would it do? It's not the stars I want, it was never the stars."

And then Mrs. Tonks began to cry, sob to be precise. Her face went red and she wailed, dignity and manners inadequate in the face of her grief. Fleur did not hesitate to pull the other woman into an embrace. Fleur hummed French lullabies and hushed her softly until finally Mrs. Tonks finally quieted. For a long moment, she rested her forehead against Fleur's neck, clinging to her.

"Merlin," the older woman muttered. She sat up. "That was embarrassing."

"_Non_, Mrs. Tonks—"

"I think you should be calling me Annie," Mrs. Tonks said, her voice caught for a dangerous moment, but a ghost of smile came to her face. "It's what Ted called me, and our friends. I remember thinking it was so undignified when we first met. 'It's Miss Black to you!' is what I would tell him. Merlin, I was such a snob. Something you probably know a thing or two about."

Fleur gaped, affronted.

"I am not a—a snob! I am just…French."

"Well, you say tomato…" Mrs. Tonks said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"What do tomatoes have to do wiz anyzing?"

"It's a Muggle saying. Ted use to say it when…Oh, never mind."

"Hmph."

Mrs. Tonks gave a watery laugh.

"It's good of you. To be looking after Molly. I suppose everybody else is picking up their lives or off saving the world, so it's up to you to hold the family together."

Fleur didn't say anything to that. She didn't feel worthy of the praise. She had only wandered into the Burrow yesterday and cleaned the house, after all. It was not so much. And it certainly hadn't done anything to bring Molly around.

Mrs. Tonks patted Fleur's hand.

"You know that is what you are doing, right? Holding Molly together is holding the family together."

"I am just here..."

But Mrs. Tonks cut off her protest.

"That is precisely right. You are here and that is all anyone can do."

Fleur looked at the other woman beseechingly, her hands clenched in her lap.

"Zat is all? Zere is not somezing else, somezing more?"

"I don't have any answers there, love, if I did I wouldn't be walking around with this gaping hole in my chest pretending that I have it all together." She sighed. "Time. That's what you have to give her. Merlin, how trite and how awfully, terribly true."

They sat in silence for a long time.

Then, Mrs. Tonks said quietly, "Thank you."

Fleur looked at her from the corner of her eye. "For what?"

"It's been a long time since anybody's held me…" She took a great breath, refusing to look at Fleur. A moment passed before she spoke again, "Dora told me about your offer during the war, to smuggle Ted out of the country."

"It was Tonks zat gave me zee idea for zee whole operation. She was so sad with her papa on zee run somewhere in Britain. I just wish it had not been too late."

"Yes, me too. But that does not take away from the good that you did do."

Fleur shrugged.

"I did not do anyzing. It was Percy and Audrey zat ran the operations. I sat safely in Shell Cottage making plans."

"Just because you were the head of the operation and not the heart does not diminish what you did. It was brave and it was good. Many people owe their lives to you."

Fleur ducked her head.

"Zank you…Andromeda. I am very proud."

"Good. Fake modesty doesn't become you."

"It is not fake modesty!" Fleur protested, but Mrs. Tonks-Andromeda just laughed at her. "Oh, you are horrible!"

Fleur looked at Andromeda crossly. The young woman did not think she could ever call this imperious, impossible woman something so bourgeois as _Annie_.

"Come for tea sometime," Fleur said impulsively. "Bring Teddy, we will walk by zee sea, it is very calming."

"I think I would like that."

oOo

After Andromeda and Teddy left, Fleur gave up on the garden for the day. Dusk was settling in, she would need to make dinner and see Molly up to bed before she could return to her own home. Fleur tried to think what needed to be done at home. She would need to make a list to keep everything straight.

"Molly, what would you like for dinner?" she called as she entered the kitchen.

"I'm not hungry, dear," came the absent reply.

Fleur tutted at her.

"What would you say if one of your sons told you he was not hungry? What do you have set out, hm?"

No response came, so Fleur prattled on just to fill the silence.

"I am not so good with zee English recipes, _non_? I see we have chicken for tonight's dinner. I make a nice coq au vin, I wonder if you have all zee ingredients? _Non_, probably not. _Comme ci, comme ca_, zee last year has taught me to improvise."

Fleur's monologue dwindled off and she turned on the wireless. She shuttered as Celestina Warbeck's voice warbled forth. Fleur could not see how such maudlin stuff could be soothing to the soul, but Molly began to hum a bit, her rocking taking on a rhythm to match the song. Fleur set a buzzing charm on herself so that her ears were full of the sound of bees and not that horrid witch songstress.

And thus, she was thoroughly startled when a pair of strong arms came about her and firm lips nuzzled her neck. She shrieked, sending a sharp elbow into the ribs of the offender. She whirled as his arms fell away and sent a hex straight at his chest, knocking him to the floor in a sprawled heap on the kitchen floor.

Ears buzzing, chest heaving, Fleur pointed her wand menacingly at her husband. He was laughing, she could tell, his mouth was quirked into a lop-sided grin, even if he was rubbing his chest. She ended the buzzing charm.

"Bill Weasley!" she screeched. "Do not ever sneak up on me again, _tu horrible homme_!"

"I—I w-was just t-testing your—your reflexes!" he laughed.

"Oh, you, I hate you!" She offered her hand.

"No, you don't," Bill responded confidently, taking Fleur's hand and pulling her on top of him.

She made an inelegant noise as she crashed into his chest, her legs tangled with his. Bill's arms wrapped around Fleur's shoulders, trapping her there. And all of this in his parents' kitchen. Impossible man! Blushing and sputtering angry French, Fleur started beating against Bill's ribs with her fist like he had taught her until he let go.

"You are beautiful when you're mad," Bill smirked. And Fleur knew he meant _crazy_ and not _angry_.

"You!" Fleur was straddling him now, beating against his chest, or trying to. He was deflecting her blows, still laughing.

"What are you two doing?"

Molly was standing over them, her fists propped on her hips in that all-too-familiar Mrs. Weasley stance. She was glaring at them fiercely, looking more alert than she had in the last two days. _Mais oui_, Fleur thought, _now she is aware_.

"Hello, Mum," Bill said happily.

"Hello, Bill dear, I wasn't expecting you." Molly looked at her daughter-in-law, her eyes narrowed. "Fleur, what would your mother say?

"To take it upstairs," Bill said helpfully.

"Bill!" this from both Mrs. Weasleys, but it was the younger who had the privilege of swatting his arm, glaring threateningly.

"Well, get off the floor and I'll make dinner," said Molly.

"But, Mum," Fleur started, but Bill squeezed her hand. She looked at him and understood the unspoken words: _don't interrupt, let things play out_.

Bill's expression had changed. Gone was the teasing glint in his eye and the playful smile. He was quietly concerned and observant. Fleur had told Bill last night about her visit to the Burrow, Molly's…what had Andromeda called it? A stupor.

Yet, Fleur found herself wishing that she could have prepared her husband more before he'd seen Molly like this. Fleur remembered all too clearly what it had been like for him the last year of the war. How hard it had been for Bill to feel helpless in the face of the danger his family faced and he being unable to protect them. It didn't matter that there was nothing he could do, to Bill family was everything and he took it on himself to be the strong one. Fleur used to curse Molly for putting that pressure on Bill when he was just a boy. Now the young woman understood that was what made Bill into the man he was, the man she loved. And Fleur wouldn't change that for all the gold in Gringotts.

"I thought you would have to work late again," Molly was saying.

Bill helped Fleur to her feet and gave her a little smile.

"Fleur told me she would be here today and I thought I would get off early so I could come visit my favorite girls."

Molly didn't fuss over Bill like she normally did when he tried to charm her. Instead she looked at Fleur in confusion.

"Oh."

Had Molly forgotten that Fleur had been there all day? Had Molly even realized that she'd had company? She must have done. Fleur thought back to the incident with Teddy and how upsetting that was. Surely Molly couldn't have forgotten that?

"Oh, well, time is just…" Molly made a flustered gesture with her hands, "running together, isn't it? Looks like dinner's ready to go in the oven. You two get cleaned up and I'll make tea."

Bill took Fleur's hand and led her upstairs to the washroom silently.

"You're a mess, love," he said, picking something out of her hair.

"I spent most of zee day in zee garden. I will be grateful of a shower once I get home."

Bill pulled Fleur close and buried his nose in her hair.

"I don't mind."

"Well, I do!"

He chuckled, then, "That was odd, with Mum, wasn't it?"

Fleur drew in a breath, a simple answer on the tip of her tongue, but then a wave of words flowed forth from her mouth to crash onto her husband. She told him about Andromeda, and that moment with Teddy, and Celestina Warbeck. And Fleur wondered aloud how Molly seemed unaware that Fleur had even been there or that she had made dinner. And for good measure, she cursed Bill for that whole thing on the floor just a moment ago. Then she was crying and his arms were around her.

"Shh, love," he murmured. "Why are you crying?"

"Because she's going to zink I am a hussy!"

Bill laughed. "Fleur, your ability to learn English words for 'slag' never ceases to amaze me."

"But it is sad, _non_?"

"My mum or your vocabulary?" Fleur just stared at him until Bill sighed, "Yes, it's very sad."

"She is not herself."

Bill looked down at Fleur for a long time in the dim light of the hallway.

"I love you. I don't think I've ever loved you as much as I do right now."

She thought of what Andromeda had said about holding the family together and Fleur thought she understood what Bill was saying to her. She ducked her head, pressing her forehead into his collar bone. She didn't deserve all this praise. Yes, during the war she was a part of something important, but now she was just here because she had nowhere else to be. She hadn't found a way to fix things.

"What are you two doing up there?" Molly called up the stairs.

"She thinks we're shagging," Bill said in Fleur's ear.

Fleur squeaked and jumped back.

"Just a moment, Mum, we're just getting our trousers back on," he called back.

Fleur's eyes flashed dangerously,

"Bill Weasley!" she erupted.

He caught her wrists, laughing, and held them against his chest.

"No hexes."

Author's Notes: I hope you enjoyed the little introduction to Andromeda here. She quickly became one of my favorite characters to write for. I'll post Part Three next Tuesday (with more Andromeda!).

And don't forget to leave a review please and thank you.


	3. Part 3: Tea With Mrs Tonks

Disclaimer: The characters and settings (most of them) belong to JK Rowling. The song _I'll Be Seeing You_ was written by Sammy Fain and was sang by a number of great singers, not least of which was Frank Sinatra.

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Part Three: Tea with Mrs. Tonks

"I made treacle tart," Fleur announced after serving tea to Andromeda.

"Harry's favorite," the older woman said dryly. "Trying to get on the good side of the Boy Who Lived?"

Fleur wrinkled her nose in some incomprehensible Gallic expression. The Boy Who Lived? Hah! How about her mother-in-law, the authority of all English cooking. Fleur placed a slice onto her pretty rose china and set it in front of Andromeda. She did not want to look anxious as the older woman tried a bit, but knew that she was failing.

"Oh," Andromeda said, her face politely blank. "It's really—"

"It is rubbish!" Fleur exclaimed, with a flick of her wand, the whole thing flew across the room into to the rubbish bin.

Andromeda chuckled.

"You are very dramatic."

"Fred said I was a drama queen. I asked him what it meant, _drama queen_? He just laughed."

"I think it's a Muggle term, I've heard my nieces say it."

Fleur's brows drew together. "Mr. Tonks, he has family still?"

The older woman nodded.

"His mother is still alive and he has two sisters, each of them have four children. None of them are magical…Why are you baking English desserts?"

Again Fleur wrinkled her nose.

"Zose boys, zey zink zey can snap her out of it if zey come around for dinner more often."

"We are talking about your husband and his many brothers, I take it?"

"_Oui_! Zose boys. Zose _stupide_ pig boys."

"I think you mean 'pig-headed.'"

Fleur thought about it for a moment.

"_Non_, I do not zink I do." With a wave of her hand, she was back to her rant, "I told zem it was a bad idea, but do zey listen? _Non_! _Stupide_ pig boys!"

"Bill too?"

"Especially Bill!"

Bill, Percy, George, Ron and Harry had stood in Fleur's kitchen, worrying about what to do about their mother. Meanwhile she, Fleur, barely had room to roll out the pastries they would all expect for dessert. Percy, hunched over a cup of tea at the table. George poked around in her cupboards as if he couldn't hold still. Ron, eating this and that. Did he ever stop eating? And Harry crammed into the corner, not sure if he belonged there or not. And her Bill, presiding over them all.

"She seems to do much better when one of us is about," commented Percy.

"She likes having someone to fuss over, doesn't she?" Bill agreed. "But we can't very well have someone stationed at the Burrow 'round the clock."

"You could give her a grandchild, that would give her something to fuss after," George snickered.

Bill stopped Fleur from thumping his little brother with a wooden spoon.

"Ever helpful, George."

"I zink you boys are just going to have to be patient," Fleur interjected. "Molly needs-"

"Maybe we should have a family dinner," piped up Ron, cramming bread and jam into his mouth and dripping it onto his fingers and her counter.

This time, Fleur's spoon was quicker than her husband and she wrapped Ron across the knuckles soundly.

"Use a _serviette_! Do not lick your fingers."

"Ow! A what?"

Bill floated a napkin to his youngest brother with a roll of his eyes.

"I swear, Mum was too tired by the time you came about to teach you any manners."

"Oi!"

"He's a growing boy, Bill," George said, pulling out a box of granola, inspecting it for a moment, and then replacing it. "Have a heart."

"I think that Ron might have a good idea," Percy interjected.

"It was bound to happen," muttered George.

"If we all get together for a family dinner, she would have something to look forward to, something to plan," said Percy, leaning back in his chair and pushing up his glasses.

Fleur looked up, a crease between her brows.

"I do not know…"

George shoved his hands in his pockets.

"That's not a bad idea, actually."

"I zink zis is a mistake," Fleur said forcefully.

Bill, at least, looked at her.

"I don't know, love, it's worth a try. It gives her something to do."

"_Non_, Bill, Molly does not need somezing to do, she needs time."

"Mum's always better with something to do," Ron said.

"I zink zis is a bad idea."

And she had repeated those same words to Bill that night as they climbed into bed. His brothers had been sent off with full bellies and lighter hearts. All sure that they had come up with a grand plan to fix their mother. So like men, to think that grief could be fixed.

"What is it you fear, love?" Bill asked seriously, already in bed. He unhooked his fang earring and dropped it with a ping into an old Gryffindor dish on his bedside table.

"_Oui_, Molly is better when one of her children is about," Fleur conceded, leaning against the bed post and crossing her arms. "But zat is not zee same as planning and preparing a meal for a house full of people. What if you boys come in and she is just sitting in her rocking chair staring off into space?"

Bill was sitting cross legged, his hands propped on his knees, very still. This was something he had learned after the attack by Greyback. Before, when he was frustrated or deep in thought, he would rub his hand over his face or pinch his nose, but now that would irritate the wounds on his face. So he learned to be still. Somehow, that made Fleur's desire for him even more intense.

She crawled onto the bed with him, nearly into his lap.

"I zink it would hurt you and your brozzers for zat to happen," she said in a very quiet voice. "And I zink it would hurt Molly too."

"Still, we have to try something," he insisted, his eyes intense. "You see that, don't you?"

"_Non_, I do not. I zink zat you should be patient."

"Maybe if we had a back-up meal ready, in case the worse happened…"

"And you will just pass zis…zis back-up meal as Molly's cooking?"

"Not fool proof, but it could smooth things over…"

"And who will prepare zis meal?"

oOo

And so this was how Fleur found herself serving terrible treacle tart to Andromeda Tonks. A woman of no sympathy, as she laughed at her hostess' troubles over the biscuits that Fleur had substituted for the tart.

"I do not know how to make English food!" Fleur raved, gesturing widely with her hands. "And in two weeks I must pass zis off as Molly Weasley's cooking."

"Do you know how to cook at all?" Andromeda asked.

_"Mais, oui!" _

"Who taught you?" she asked, peering at Fleur over her tea cup. "Your house elf, I suppose?"

"Our housekeeper. We did not have house elves. _Maman_ says it is slavery."

Andromeda blinked, clearly surprised. Fleur took a moment's satisfaction in finally throwing the older woman off balance.

"Is that common practice in Wizarding France?"

"_Non_, it is common to have house elves, just like England. But _Maman_ is part Veela and she will not own another creature."

"Oh," Andromeda uttered, her tea cup clinking in its saucer. "I had not thought of it like that."

The smug feeling was fading away now. Fleur studied the circles the cream made in the tea.

"Most do not. Veela are beautiful, so we are allowed to roam free, even live among zee humans, almost equal. But not a homely creature like Dobby, who had a beautiful soul."

"Why do I keep underestimating you?" Andromeda reached over and squeezed Fleur's hand. "I keep thinking you should be like my sister, Narcissa, the way I remember her from when we were girls. She was beautiful and spoiled and so much fun to tease. She was kind in her way, but even as a girl her kindness was brittle and only ever went so far. But your kindness isn't like that, is it?"

"I hope not," Fleur said quietly. "And I am not spoiled, my papa is a farmer."

"Pfft. Your father is no more a farmer than mine was."

"He is a farmer," Fleur insisted, stabbing the table with one finger. "He grows magical and food crops and he raises _mouton_."

"He is a farmer with a beautiful wife, lots of galleons and a housekeeper," countered Andromeda with a smirk. "In England, he would be a gentleman farmer, Sir Bentley of Stuffed Shirts Farm or some such." She laughed at her own joke, a wistful look on her face. "Ted would have thought that was funny."

"I never met him. I am sorry for that."

"He liked your husband a great deal."

"He knew Bill?"

Andromeda nodded. "Oh, yes. Dora and Charlie were of an age, they were great friends at Hogwarts. Charlie would come visit over summer holiday, and you know, where one Weasley goes another is not far behind. Bill would borrow Ted's old Muggle books."

"Kipling," Fleur said knowingly.

"Yes!" Andromeda said with a bright smile. "And Jules Vern. I remember that Bill use to keep the Vern books so that Arthur could read them too. They would talk for hours about those books—Ted and Bill. Of course-and I doubt this has ever been said about Bill Weasley before or since-but Ted never saw him as a threat. Charlie, on the other hand, Ted could barely keep a civil tongue with poor Charlie."

"I did not know…Were Charlie and Tonks?"

Andromeda shrugged. "You'll have to ask Charlie. I always suspected they were more than friends, but Dora never said. Regardless, whatever was between them must not have been too serious..."

She stopped. It was almost imperceptible, but Andromeda took a little breath and the corners of her mouth tightened. Fleur was beginning to understand this gesture as an attempt on the older woman's side to control her emotions. When Andromeda spoke again, she changed the subject.

"Ted would have liked you, I think. He had a soft spot for beautiful, spoiled, rich girls."

"I am not spoiled!"

Andromeda chuckled.

"I didn't know how to cook when I ran away with Ted, actually. My mother-in-law taught me. She is a great and kind lady, Edith Tonks, and I am willing to bet that she can help you learn how to make a passable treacle tart."

oOo

Bill leaned against the bathroom doorjamb, watching with some amusement as his wife attempted to make herself drab. She had plaited her hair tightly. She had even tried to charm it a darker color, though it had been a futile attempt as Veela hair resisted such magic. She had chosen a loose, pink Muggle dress that fell to her ankles and was at least ten years out of fashion. She wore no jewelry other than her engagement ring and wedding band, and no makeup. All of this in preparation to venture into Muggle society.

"You know, this won't work," he said, arms crossed, mouth smirking. "You are still beautiful."

"I wish you could go with me," she said, taking one last look in the mirror. "You are much more comfortable wiz Muggles zan me."

Before meeting Bill, Fleur had not often ventured into Muggle society. But the few times Bill tried to take her to a Muggle dance club or the cinema had been disastrous. While Wizards had a tendency to stare at her, and young Wizards sometimes made fools of themselves over her, they were accustom to magic and the way it felt. Muggles, however, were not prepared for her Veela magic. Men openly gaped at her. Some would try to touch her and even grab her, sometimes neglecting angry girlfriends. After Bill had been forced to Confound two unruly club goers, he promised to never make her go into Muggle society again.

Now, Bill took Fleur by the shoulders and turned her to him.

"Mrs. Tonks will be with you and I am sure that Ted Tonks' family are good people."

Fleur nodded.

"I know. I am being silly."

"I know you are doing this for my mum and …Well, I appreciate it."

She wrapped her arms around his chest and tucked her head under his chin.

"I hope zis works zee way you want it to, _mon_ Bill. I want you to know peace for once."

He cupped her chin and turned her face to his.

"You are my peace."

"Is that so?" she asked disbelievingly, one brow cocked.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he added, "You are also my fiery passion and a right pain in my arse. Have I ever told you that that you are a walking contradiction, Mrs. Weasley?"

"I zink I have heard zat before," Fleur laughed and kissed the smile right off his face. With much regret, she pulled away, pressing her finger against his scared lips. "Hold my place right zere. We will pick up where we left off tonight, _oui_?"

Bill nipped the pad of her finger with his sharp, white teeth.

"I am going to hold you to that promise."

She smiled teasingly, then gasped. He had done all this to settle her nerves, to give her confidence going into a dreaded situation. And he did it without making her feel in the least bit condescended to. How did he do it? No man had ever made her feel strong the way Bill did, not even her Papa.

"You had better, _mon_ _amour_."

Taking her frumpy, white sweater, Fleur squeezed past her husband out of the loo. She swanned out to the Apparition point beyond the wards, feeling lighter. With a pirouette, she Apparated to The Shire, the Tonks country home. So named, Andromeda told her, for a Muggle book about wizards and elves and dwarves. Fleur had been there once, after the Battle. It had been charming and cozy, but filled with such sorrow. Now, as she pushed past the gate and up the walk, she could still feel the melancholia, but not so strongly as before.

"Oh, good, you're on time," Andromeda, Teddy in her arms, called from the Dutch door, the top half swung open. "Edith doesn't like tardiness, but I find it harder and harder to be timely with Teddy in tow."

Teddy clapped when he saw Fleur, his hair turning silvery blonde.

"I'd quite forgotten how difficult it is to go about with a baby," Andromeda admitted. "I never thought to do this again." She passed the baby into Fleur's outstretched arms, stroking his hair fondly. "He is a blessing. Without him…"

Andromeda paused. Fleur looked at the older woman from the corner of her eye, then turned her attention back to Teddy.

"You'll see," Andromeda said but her voice was a little raspy. "Edith is quite of the same mind as I in regards to Teddy."

Fleur turned the baby about, cooing to him in French and giving Andromeda a moment of privacy to wipe her tears and compose herself. Fleur was a proud woman and so was Andromeda. It was one thing to have a break down when the grief was overwhelming, but quite another to be caught in a maudlin moment. Fleur knew she would not want another to witness such a private moment.

"Well, I'll fetch the pram, shall I?" Andromeda said bracingly. "It's just down the lane."

"You live so near your mozzer-in-law?" Fleur exclaimed, surprised.

"Well, my dear, unlike your mother-in-law, mine welcomed me to the family with open arms," Andromeda needled with a sly grin, but then she shrugged. "Ted loved his family and he loved me. When the Blacks disowned me, I think he imagined that his family could step in. He was very nearly right."

'Down the lane' turned out to be quite the trek. The Shire was about as far from town as the Burrow was from Ottery St. Catchpole. The senior Mrs. Tonks lived in a small, stone cottage off High Street. It was quintessentially English, with a green door and a front garden that was currently picked over for the coming winter. Andromeda left the pram by the front step, surreptitiously placing a shield charm over it to protect it from unexpected rain showers.

Inside, the house was a bit dark, as if it didn't get enough sunlight, but welcoming. An elderly woman came from the kitchen, a ruffled apron tied about her, her steely hair set in curls that looked as if a Permanent Sticking charm had been performed on it. Upon seeing her guests, the woman's gently wrinkled face broke into a wide smile.

Fleur tilted her head to one side, studying the woman. She couldn't help but wonder how old the woman was. By wizarding standards, Fleur would guess well over 100, but she understood that Muggles aged quicker than wizards. She also wondered how the old woman got her hair to stay in one place without moving.

"Annie, you look thin," the woman scolded. "You are not taking care of yourself. I'll march up to The Shire and make sure you're eating, shall I?"

"Hello to you, Mum," Andromeda replied dryly, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

"And this must be the young lady you told me about." The old woman came forward and took Fleur's hands in her thin, cool ones, the soft skin like the finest parchment. "My, you are as beautiful as Annie said."

"_Merci_, Mrs. Tonks," Fleur said formally. She could feel the delicious burn of a blush rise in cheeks, but she hated that she sounded so stiff and formal. She reverted to this aloof behavior when she was nervous or uncomfortable, yet she knew that it did not endear her to others. She had learned that with Molly and Ginny. "And zank you for having me in your lovely home."

"Come," said the old woman, "let us have a spot of tea and coo over Teddy a moment before we get on with business."

The elderly Mrs. Tonks led them into a small sitting room. Now that the worst was over, and the woman did not seem inclined to stare at her, Fleur realized that she had never been in a Muggle home before. She looked around curiously. So much was the same, and yet so much was new and different. Framed photographs hung on the walls and set on the mantle, yet the people in them were stationary, quite like Mrs. Tonk's hair. A box sat in one corner that Fleur knew was a telovisionary; she had seen one in Arthur's shed. Now, however, she wondered how it worked and what it would be like to watch a program on it. She did rather like the Muggle cinema. Bill had taken her to see a movie called 'The English Patient' once. She had cried and cried, but later, after the attack, it meant so much more.

On a table against the wall, Fleur recognized something she understood.

"Oh, you have a record player," Fleur said happily, going to the Muggle contraption and touching the lid lightly.

"You know what a record player is?" Andromeda asked.

"_Mais_ _oui_, Bill has one."

"Of course Arthur Weasley's son has a record player."

"You are rolling your eyes at my husband, I zink," Fleur trilled. She shrugged and added, "He likes Muggle music."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Fleur gasped and whirled around. She had just broke the International Statute of Secrecy. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute. What did this mean? She couldn't remember the punishment for such a breech. Surely, she had learned it at Beauxbatons?

"Don't fret, dear," said the elderly Mrs. Tonks, her hands clasped in front of her. "My son was a Wizard, after all. I am quite use to talk of Muggles and so forth. Would you like to put on some music? I haven't anything modern or new age, I'm afraid."

"As long as it is not Celestina Warbeck, I am sure it will be lovely."

The old woman came over and pulled a record from the cabinet.

"Sinatra," she said. "American singer, but so dreamy in my day. He helped us keep the home fires burning during the War."

"Zee war?"

"World War II, of course, the one we fought when I was your age." She looked at Fleur knowingly. "Lost my brother in that one."

"My brozzer-in-law died."

The grey headed woman nodded, but she said no more. She put the record on and a full string section swelled out of the speakers. Then a voice so smooth, singing words so crisp about wanting to see a loved one who was far away. _I'll be seeing you in all of the old familiar places_… Fleur remembered nights when Bill was on missions and she would wait up worrying for him. Imagining him at the table or in his chair with a book and jumping at every sound, sure it was bad news. Her eyes filled with tears.

"That's the one," Mrs. Tonks said, nodding slightly. "All the war on the homefront is in that song."

"_Oui_."

"Have some tea, dear."

oOo

"Now, sing Incy Wincy Spider twice through as you stir and then it will be just right."

Fleur was mixing the treacle filling for the tart as the older Mrs. Tonks instructed, but she stopped and stared.

"Zee what spider?"

Andromeda chuckled and eyed Fleur over her cup of tea.

"You've really stumped her now, Mum. Muggle and English! Poor French Witch is swimming."

"I sing, you stir, dear," instructed Mrs. Tonks.

_"Incy wincy spider climbed up the water spout, _

_Down came the rain and washed the spider out. _

_Out came the sunshine and dried up all the rain _

_So incy wincy spider climbed up the spout again! _

You're supposed to be stirring, dear."

"But what were you doing wiz your fingers?" Fleur asked.

"It's a children's nursery rhyme," the old woman said. She mimed the finger movements again. "Dora loved that one, remember?"

There was a sad smile on Andromeda's face.

"I'll never forget."

The older Mrs. Tonks sang, Fleur stirred. Andromeda set her cup in its saucer as tears came down her cheeks. She sniffled pitifully, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket to stem the flow. Finally, she bowed her head into her hands and cried. Her mother-in-law directed Fleur to pour the treacle into the crust, as she rubbed Andromeda's back wordlessly.

"Go check on Teddy, dear," Mrs. Tonks said.

Andromeda nodded and took herself off.

The old woman looked tired for the first time that afternoon. She looked at Fleur with all the age and wisdom of the world.

"Grief is a terrible and unpredictable thing. It can take one in the middle of the day when one is least expecting it and leave a body in a heap on the floor. We're supposed to have a stiff upper lip, we English, but what's one to do when your husband and child are gone in a season?"

"What do you do?" Fleur asked quietly.

Mrs. Tonks shook her head.

"I go to church, I keep busy, I pray. But I am an old lady, I know it won't be too much longer and I will be joining Ted and Dora and my husband and brother and Mummy and Daddy."

"You…you welcome death?"

"I welcome my reward," the old woman said. "I have lived a long life and I have seen things I never thought to see, but soon it will be time to go home. To go be with the ones that I love. But I worry for Annie, I do, she is young still. I hope she will find love again, I don't want her to be alone."

Fleur looked agape at the old woman who just chuckled.

"What is it, dear? She should waste away because her husband is dead, should she? Such young foolishness, that."

"Bill… Bill almost died in zee war. I-I cannot imagine…" Fleur swallowed thickly, she could not think about it, it made her heart hurt.

"Of course you can't. The worst didn't happen, so why should you? But life has a funny way of marching on, even when we do not want it to."

The old woman took Fleur's hand and smiled mysteriously.

"The day your second child is born, you will understand what I am telling you now: The heart has an unlimited amount of love to give. Annie loved Ted, but she can love again and it will not mean that her love for Ted was not real or even that it has faded. Love does not work that way."

Fleur thought of Molly, with her seven children. She thought of the love that she'd seen her mother-in-law lavish on Harry. She remembered the comfort that Molly had offered that young boy after the Battle, Dennis? The one who's brother had died. The boy had no one and Molly's heart was broken over Fred, but she had held him the same as she had held Ginny. If the heart was limitless, then surely Molly was the proof.

"Your crust is very good," Mrs. Tonks said prosaically. "Of course, French crust making can't be too different than English crust making, I suppose. Let's put this in the oven and see how it turns out, shall we? Then you'll come back on Thursday and we'll go up to the church. I'm on the Ladies Baking Committee, we make supper for the Bishop on Thursdays."

* * *

Author's Note: I would like to thank my Beta, slenderpanda597, once again. I originally wrote "Itsy Bitsy Spider," but she changed it to "Incy WincySpider," making it sound much more British.

I want to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving!


	4. Part 4: Lessons in Life and Cooking

Author's Note: Ok, this is a short one this week. Originally, this and the last chapter were one big chapter, but I split them later. Believe me, I fretted and fretted over where to make the split. Hope this work out, you can let me know with a review (hint, hint).

* * *

Part Four: Lessons in Life and Cooking

"Andromeda will not be joining us today," Fleur said as she entered Mrs. Tonks's cottage on Thursday. "She did not want to bring Teddy out."

"Oh," Mrs. Tonks responded. There was no surprise or disappointment in her face or manner, just resignation it seemed. "Well, let's be off then, shall we?"

They walked arm-in-arm under an umbrella to the steepled church in the center of town. The kitchen was in the cellar, although it was bright and cheery. Small curtained windows at the top of the north wall let in the sunlight and the stone walls were painted bright white.

The members of the Ladies Baking Committee stood about a metal work table sipping tea. Each of them were terribly old, with spectacles hanging from chains around their necks and hair in various shades of grey that was every bit as stiff and unmoving as Mrs. Tonks' hair style. All of them stared at Fleur as if she were some fairy tale creature that none of them thought to ever see in person. One lady brought her glasses up to her face and squinted as if to examine her better.

"Well, a young one," said one of the women. "Been awhile since we had one such as this in our midst."

"And pretty," laughed another, hiding her smile behind her hand.

"Ladies," said Mrs. Tonks, "this is my friend, Fleur Weasley. She is French."

"_Bonjour_," Fleur smiled with a little wave.

All of the women pulled back slightly, as if faced with a particularly unpleasant smell.

"She wants to learn how to make some hearty English dishes to impress her mother-in-law," said Mrs. Tonks.

"And your husband, too, no doubt," one of the ladies said sagely, if a bit loudly.

"No sturdy British man could survive on French food," another announced.

Fleur shot a perplexed look at Mrs. Tonks, who was busy tying an apron on.

"And his poor mother!" another exclaimed. "Bringing home a French mademoiselle, she must have been beside herself."

"Oh yes, my neighbor's boy brought home a French girl. Could hardly understand a thing the girl said and the manners! Made Muriel miserable, she did."

Fleur cleared her throat, then flashed them her best smile. _Be gracious_.

"I zank you for your assistance. My mozzer-in-law is having a difficult time and I want to make her happy."

"Well, aren't you a dear," said one, though it seemed a bit patronizing.

"Beef Wellington and shepherd's pie on the menu tonight," Mrs. Tonks said, handing Fleur an apron.

"Dishes guaranteed to satisfy any English man."

Fleur opened her mouth with a scathing remark on the tip of her wand, but shut it with a snap.

"Where would you like me to begin?" she said instead.

Once the work began, the Ladies Baking Committee was much more amiable. They took it in turns to show Fleur various recipes. It seemed, after a while, that they enjoyed having a young person in their midst. Talk began turning to husbands and reminiscing about days gone by.

"I've always wondered," said one, Mrs. Hutchinson maybe, "if French men are different than English men."

Conversation died away and all the ladies were attentively watching Fleur who was rolling out a crust for a beef pie. Beef pie? Why must the British stuff meat into a perfectly good pastry?

"Different?" she echoed. "I do not know. Zey both like zee same sport, _non_? And _Maman_ had to yell at Papa to pick up his socks, just like I yell at Bill. I suppose zat French men prefer wine to…um…ale."

"But in bed, dear."

Fleur looked up from her crust, cheeks blazing with a blush, mouth hung open.

"Oh, um, I…My husband…I have never…"

"Girls!" Mrs. Tonks admonished. "Can't you see that you have shocked Fleur? She is a good girl, which is more than I can say for any of you!"

"Edith, we were all fast during the war."

"Only curious, can't blame a body, can you?"

"You know young people today. Who knew a French mademoiselle would have morals."

They were all speaking at once. Fleur didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Other women thinking she was a slut was not new. Because men desired her, it was assumed that she too must feel lust. And, of course, there was the jealousy. However, there was something amusing about a collection of little old ladies asking her about sex.

"Why don't you get a cuppa, dear," Mrs. Tonks said, rubbing her back. "Take a break, I'll finish up the crust. You go upstairs and watch the choir practice, then."

Fleur took the cup of tea and drifted into the hall. She remembered seeing a set of stairs that led up to the sanctuary, but soon she found herself turned around and wandering aimlessly. That's when she came to a closed door with a sign outside that read 'Grief and Loss Support Group.'

She stood staring at the door for a long time, a feeling in her gut she had only experienced a few times. Once, when Madam Maxime asked to tutor her personally, once when she first saw Bill and again when she helped deliver Mary's baby. Whatever was beyond this door, somehow it was the answer she was looking for.

Quietly, Fleur opened the door and slipped inside. She stood in the shadows, not wanting to be seen or disrupt anything. She couldn't help but feel like an intruder or an interloper. She'd heard Bill use that word and she thought perhaps it fit here. She was a witch among Muggles, eavesdropping on their private moments. For anything happening behind a closed door was surely private.

A group of about a dozen men and women sat about in a circle, sipping tea and clutching something that looked a bit like a handkerchief in their hands. A man with a collar that clearly marked him as a priest stood just to the side, a hand casually in his pocket, and yet his round face was lined with concern and sympathy. There was another woman with frizzy hair and a clipboard who sat at the top of the circle, she seemed to be leading the group.

"Carrie," the woman with frizzy hair was saying, she reached out to touch the hand of a young woman in the circle, "this is your first meeting, do you care to say anything?"

The young woman, who reminded Fleur of Tonks when she was heartbroken over Remus, shook her head, not lifting her eyes.

"That is fine, that is fine," the frizzy haired woman said reassuringly.

A man cleared his throat.

"I found one of Tommy's socks. I packed his things away six months ago, I thought …But there it was, stuffed in the back of my own sock drawer. It was so small and white. He never…" the man sucked in a breath. "I sat down and cried just as if not a day had passed. Amy, she's a wreck."

"Has she accepted any of your support, John?" the vicar asked kindly.

"No, Father," the man gasped, clearly on the verge of tears. "That's the hardest part, isn't it? She won't accept anyone's comfort and I feel her pulling away from me every day."

"It's good that you come here," the woman said, clutching her clipboard and sitting on the edge of her metal chair. "It's important to have a support system at times like these and when Amy's ready, you'll be that much stronger for her."

The priest came over to the man and knelt before him. He spoke quietly to him and the younger man nodded and held the handkerchief to his face. The priest patted him on the back in a fatherly way and the other man nodded before burying his face in his hands.

"Losing a child is hard, John, no denying it," said an older woman who seemed about Andromeda's age, but she was more haggard. "My boy died three years ago today. He was 25."

"How do you get over it then, Mrs. Michaels?"

The woman shrugged helplessly.

"You don't, I reckon."

The circle grew very quiet at this pronouncement. Each person seemed to withdraw into themselves, mulling over these words. It reminded Fleur of Bill and his brothers. They were seeking answers, not realizing that there was no question to begin with.

"So," the woman, Carrie, said in a quiet, strained voice. "It never ends?"

"My child," the priest said in a low voice, "the Bible tells us: 'For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. So, you see, everything changes, even if it does not pass. What is important is that you have Jesus and you have us to see you through your grief'."

The older woman looked upon the younger with shining eyes.

"Father Christopher is correct, love. Grief is not a process as far as I can tell, it is a journey with no end in sight. But you learn to live with it and you learn to enjoy the moments God gives you a little at a time."

"Aye, tis true," said another older woman. "One day you'll wake up and it just won't hurt quite as much as it did the day before."

"How—how did you get to that day?" the younger woman asked.

"Prayer, I reckon," said the one woman.

"Just waking up in the morning and getting dressed is a beginning," said the other.

"And, of course," said the frizzy haired woman, "coming here, where there are people who understand and are willing to share with you their own grief and walk with you through yours."

"My husband," said Carrie, "was a solider. He was in Bosnia…on this peacekeeping mission with the U.N."

She stopped and said no more. There was a long silence as everybody gave her time to speak or not. Fleur found tears on her cheeks. There was a part of her that recalled how close she came to losing Bill, but another part that turned her mind to Andromeda and Molly, whose children were soldiers and had given the fullest measure. Fleur felt her heart constrict and her throat close up. As quietly as she slipped in, she left, not wanting to detract from these noble people's grief. Her grief, it was not so great as theirs. She was on the fringe of the Weasley family, she had barely anytime to know Fred. Or Tonks or Remus. It didn't feel right for her to be crying when others' grief was so much greater than hers.

She found an alcove next to a set of stairs, probably the ones she'd been looking for all along. She sat there and cried. For Molly, for Andromeda, for Bill and George. For Fred, especially for Fred. How she wished she could have known him. George was always kind to her-kinder than any of the other brothers in the beginning-but knowing George was not the same as knowing Fred. The first twin had held himself back, not quite sure what to make of her. Fred had wanted to prank her, she suspected, but was afraid of what Bill would do in response. If there had been time, Fred would have done, she was sure of it. Somehow she mourned for that as well. That moment of laughter and anger that she would never have.

* * *

A/N2: Here's a little spoiler for next Tuesday: Part 5: The Disastrous Way Forward. But you'll have to come back to find out what that means. This is designed to wrap up the week of Christmas and since there are only three more parts, that means Christmas is fast approaching! Eek!


	5. Part 5: The Disastrous Way Forward

Author's Note: Thank you to all who have either favorited or followed this story.

Disclaimer: The characters (most of them) and setting belong to JK Rowling.

* * *

Part Five: The Disastrous Way Forward

The middle of October came and so did the day on which all their hopes were pinned. Fleur was up late the night before the big family dinner, preparing dishes and desserts and she was up early the next day to pack them up. Bill found her in the kitchen arranging dishes in a basket charmed with an Undetectable Expansion spell. She was still in her dressing gown, her hair plaited. He knew her well enough to see that she looked tired under all the beauty and magic.

"Don't forget the Feather Weight Charm after you have all that packed," he said, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Of course not," she said as she fitted another dish into the basket. "I would not want an old man like you to put his back out carrying all zis food."

"Saucy wench and it's only half eight in the morning."

Fleur pursed her lips, a sure sign that she was trying to suppress a smile.

"_Maman_ warned me about marrying such an old man. She said you would never be able to keep up wiz me."

In two quick steps, Bill caught her around the waist and boosted her onto the work top. Fleur shrieked and giggled as he pinned her there with his arms on either side of her.

"I will gladly prove your _maman_ wrong, Fleur Weasley. In the kitchen or do I take you upstairs?"

"I just washed zese counters," she protested, but she was giggling.

"Who sounds old now?"

She kissed him, holding his face between her hands.

"Take me upstairs, Mr. Weasley," she said breathlessly, a devilish glint in her eye, "and have your way wiz me!"

"Ugh, you sound like a romance novel."

Bill scowled at Audrey who was standing at the garden door. The deep, angry scars on his face made it an impressive scowl, but Audrey was singularly unimpressed and unintimidated. Percy, stood behind her looking only about half awake and like he would prefer to be just about anywhere else in the world.

"Don't you two ever stop?" Audrey asked with an impertinent grin.

Fleur's polite: "Good morning, Audrey, I zought we were meeting at zee Burrow," was overridden by Bill's exasperated, "Why are you here? Percy, have you any idea what time it is?"

"We thought you might need help getting the food ready to go," Audrey said, though whose question she was answering was hard to say.

"Speak for yourself," Percy muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I was content where I was-you know, in bed. It was warm and comfortable and affords all sorts of other…erm, amenities."

"Well, I will make coffee zen," Fleur offered, moving to slide of the counter.

"No," Bill protested, staying her with a hand on her hip. "They are not staying. The food is prepared and packed and we have no need of their assistance."

"Zey are our guests."

"Our uninvited guests."

"Zey will hardly be zee first. And if I can be civil to zat Goblin," she paused, her face taking on that fierce look it always had when she spoke of Griphook, "you can be nice to your brozzer and my best friend…who are in love," she finished in a singsong voice, smiling at Audrey.

Audrey beamed back at Fleur, while Percy turned several shades of red. Bill, however, admitted defeat and set Fleur down.

"At least go upstairs and take a bath," Bill insisted. "I'll make breakfast."

"_Merci, vous homme merveilleux_," she exclaimed, reaching up to kiss him.

Bill watched as Fleur took Audrey's hand and they raced upstairs, the musical laughter of witches lingering behind them. He was somewhat mollified that at least Fleur would get a little rest and pampering before leaving for the Burrow, even if he wasn't doing the pampering. He turned to the kitchen, where his little brother was already sitting at the butcher's block, chin propped in his hand.

"So, coffee first, you wonderful man," Percy quipped dryly.

Bill cuffed Percy on the back of the head, but took up the tin coffee pot none-the-less.

Several hours later, the foursome Apparated outside the wards of the Burrow. They were all in high spirits, the witches arm-in-arm speaking quickly to one another in a mix of English and French. Percy was watching them from the corner of his eye, that dopey smile on his face that he always got when he was looking at Audrey. For Bill's part, he was just hoping his own smile did not mirror his brother's.

Privately, however, Bill was rather nervous about the coming day. His stomach was clenched hard, as they neared the garden gate. He'd been as sure of this plan as his brothers had been, but in the last weeks, as Bill had watched Fleur work so hard to make this dinner come off seamlessly, he'd begun to have doubts. Fleur's warnings rang in his ears and even before they got to the kitchen door, Bill knew what they would find.

Fleur opened the door.

"_Bonjour_, Molly, Arthur," she called happily, but Bill watched as her steps faltered.

The brothers were the next to enter to find their mum sat in her rocking chair in one of her more ragged house dresses, her hair looked uncombed. There was no food waiting to go into the oven, nothing boiling on the stove, no enticing smells whatsoever. Mum barely looked up to acknowledge her visitors. Dad, however, was coming down the stairs, ringing his hands, an anxious look pinching his face.

"Molly, dear," Dad said. "Look who's here! It's Percy and Bill…"

The rocking of the chair stopped, slowly she turned to look at them.

"Oh, hello, dears," she said in a faraway voice. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Sunday, Mum," Percy said in a hollow voice, Audrey reached over and squeezed his arm. "We had a family dinner planned, remember?"

"Oh…oh, of course, how silly of me."

"Why don't you go upstairs, dear," Dad said, taking her hands and pulling her from the chair. "Put on that pretty blue dress, do your hair, we can handle things for a little while down here."

Bill watched as his mother walked heavily upstairs. He felt a small hand on his chest and looked down at his wife. Fleur smiled reassuringly to him, no hint of pity or recrimination in her eyes. He wanted to kiss her then, but knew she would be embarrassed if he did so in his parent's kitchen. So he cupped her face instead, stroking his thumb across her smooth cheek.

"It's alright, love," he murmured.

Fleur's smile said that it wasn't but that she thought he was brave to say otherwise.

"Boys, I'm sorry," Dad heaved miserably, his eyes were suspiciously red rimmed. "I've been talking to her about the family dinner for days, hoping it would get her motivated, but it's like…"

"She doesn't see you," Fleur said softly, she was beside Dad now, holding his hand.

"She doesn't even hear me," he added sadly, patting her hand with his free one.

Audrey took the basket of food from Bill's hand and set it on the counter. She smiled brightly at Arthur-a little too brightly-and her voice a little too cheerful as she said, "Well, George, Ron, and Harry will be here soon and that will improve her spirits. Fleur has dinner under control so this day can only get better."

Percy, standing next to Bill, cleared his throat.

"I'll just send a Patronus to George, Ron, and Harry, then, let them know what to expect." And he went out to the far end of the garden.

Bill's youngest brothers and Harry showed up an hour later, looking apprehensive, but the spirit of the house was already greatly improved. Andromeda and Teddy had come by floo, much to Dad's delight. He'd taken Teddy up and had barely set him down since. Mum had returned downstairs looking a bit more like herself. She had gone to the work top where Dad and the witches had laid out the dishes, looked at it somewhat bemusedly and went to work. Fleur kept drifting over, offering to help, only to have Mum chase her away again.

"Oh, boys," Molly said when the three younger men walked into the kitchen. "Just in time. I'll have dinner on the table in a trice."

"Hello, Molly," Harry was the first to speak, Ron looked like he didn't trust himself with words quite yet. "Thanks for having us all over today."

"We should do it more often, shouldn't we?" she responded. "Family dinner every Sunday, wouldn't that be grand?"

"I'll have to hire another shopgirl if you expect Ron and me both to be here every week," George said in mock grievance. "Verity will demand a raise if she has to work every Sunday."

Mum was taking the shepherd's pie from the oven.

"She deserves a raise just for having to work with you, Fred Weasley."

Silence fell over the kitchen. All eyes had turned to George, who was a bit pale, but was forcing a smile for everyone else's benefit. The dish fell from Mum's hands to crash onto the floor, the impact sounding like an explosion. There was a collective flinch.

Fleur was the first to shake off the hex that had settled over the kitchen.

"Here, Mum, I can fix zat right up." She took out her elegant wand, the spell on her lips as she moved closer to the oven.

"George, George," Mum cried. Her face was already blotchy and she was clutching her apron tightly as she stared at George. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, I-I…"

"Honestly, woman," George tried but his voice caught. "It's okay, Mum, I understand."

"No, no, no," she sobbed and shook her head, "It's not okay. I hurt you, I'm sorry. I know you aren't Fred."

"The ear does give it away," he said, vainly trying to grasp onto a bit of humor. "And the breathing."

Mum gasped, an anguished sound. George flinched, whether it was away from Mum's obvious pain or his own joke it was hard to tell. Dad handed Teddy over to Andromeda, he was moving forward, to Mum, to George. Ron and Harry, however, each had a hand on one of George's shoulders.

"What is this?" Mum demanded shrilly, she was looking down at the steaming mess at her feet. "This isn't my crock."

She looked up and around, her eyes locking on Fleur who was standing nearest.

"This is the crock I gave you at the wedding," she accused.

"Molly," Dad said, "that's no matter…"

Mum pressed the heel of her hand to her head, looking around at the kitchen. The smashed parsnips on the stove, the rolls in a basket on the counter, the treacle tarts tucked into cupboard for later. The tarts-which it now seemed rather obvious-were baked in relatively new stoneware dishes that were not the well-used ones that Mum had spent the last three decades utilizing. She shook her head once, then twice, as if coming from a trance.

"I don't understand," Mum said, "I don't remember making this meal. I don't remember planning this day…" She looked around wildly again before her eyes settled on Fleur, narrowing. "You!"

"_Moi_?" Fleur squeaked, looking stricken under the heated gaze.

"You have been flitting around here for weeks," Mum screeched. "Doing Merlin knows what when you are not wanted, not invited!"

Bill stood, his eyes hard.

"Mum—" he said warningly, but Fleur put up a hand, palm out, stopping him. He caught her eye and she shook her head.

"Always where you are not wanted," Mum raged on. "Sticking your snooty French nose where it doesn't belong. Intruding on our family, on our grief."

"Molly," Dad said sharply. He had a look on his face that Bill had never seen before, a mix between anguish and anger. "That is not fair."

"What's not fair is that _she_ is here-alive and well-and Fred is not!"

"What did you say?" Bill burst out. He felt Percy's arms come about him from behind, restraining him. Bill realized that he had took a step forward, but didn't know what his intention had been. To protect Fleur or to shake his mum until she took it back. "So I should have lost my wife, then, Mum?"

"Bill," Fleur admonished quietly and she shook her head.

Mum looked at him frantically.

"Bill…"

A hand squeezed Bill's wrist and he turned to see Andromeda standing beside him, Teddy on her hip.

"Molly," she said calmly, "you should stop before you say anything else you'll regret."

Mum made a strangled noise, looking around at all of the horrified faces trained on her. She dashed passed Fleur, knocking into her, past Dad and up the stairs. Dad was close behind her. Bill looked first to Fleur, who was very still but curiously dry eyed. His brothers were a different case altogether. Ron was wiping viciously at his eyes and George had tears running down his cheeks. Percy, at his back, was now leaning into him more than restraining him. Even Audrey, who was sitting at the table rather thunderstruck, was wiping at her eyes.

"Fleur," Bill said hoarsely.

"It is all right, _mon cher_, she did not mean it."

Fleur turned on her heel and ran up the stairs. Bill made to follow, but was stayed by Andromeda.

"Allow me," she said quietly, passing Teddy to Percy, then Andromeda followed Fleur in her much more dignified fashion.

Bill stumbled to the sink, bracing himself there and staring out the widow unseeingly. He pictured Fleur's flat, emotionless expression as Mum was attacking her. He wondered what she had been thinking. He wondered what Mum had been thinking, or even if she was. He dragged his hand down his face, ripping at his scars and he hissed in pain.

"Fleur's right," Percy said quietly. "Grief makes people act out of character, out of their mind."

"It's true," Harry put in. "After Sirius died, I said horrible things to Ron and Hermione, things I should probably still be apologizing for."

"Nah, mate," Ron replied. "We're square."

"And she didn't mean to say she wished to trade Fleur for Fred," George said. "I just can't believe she really thinks that."

Bill turned to find all of his brothers and Audrey seated around the table. Harry had Teddy now.

"Thanks," Bill muttered. "How are—"

"Don't ask how I am," George stated flatly.

"Fair enough." Bill jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from trying to rub his face again. "She warned me this was a bad idea."

"Yeah, I seem to remember hearing her say that too," Ron said.

George grinned, doing his best to look devilish.

"Does this mean you're in the dog house with your beautiful wife, oh Billy boy?"

There were half-hearted snickers around the table.

"Possibly Mum too," Ron added with a ghost of a smile. "He _is_ the oldest, he should have known better."

"Which do you suppose is worse?" mused Percy, looking at his brothers over his glasses.

"Well, Mum will yell at him until she's blue in the face," Ron said knowingly.

"But Fleur will kick him out of bed," George said gleefully to a chorus of commiserating groans. "Fleur wins!"

"I'm glad you can all have fun at my expense," Bill replied dryly. "But, for the record, I know how to get back in Fleur's good graces. So you can all take your brotherly concern and—"

Audrey cleared her throat and motioned to Teddy.

"Remember, there are innocent ears before you finish that sentence."

They all looked at Teddy, whose hair had gone black and unruly. He was currently preoccupied by trying to grab Harry's glasses and yank them off his face. Harry was deflecting his little hands, pretending to nibble on his fingers and making the baby giggle.

"What I don't get," Audrey said, "if you wanted her to have something to occupy her time, why not have her volunteer at the orphanage. We could use all of the help we can get—especially of the free variety—and who knows more about children than Molly Weasley?"

All of the men looked at her in astonishment.

"Percy," George said after a moment, "where was this brilliant witch when Ron proposed this daft plan of his."

"Oi! I seem to remember you all agreeing to my idea at the time," Ron huffed back.

Bill took out his wand, ignoring the squabble brewing at the table, and levitated the shepherd's pie into the rubbish bin, then Scourgified the floor.

"She really worked hard to learn how to make this meal," he said sadly. "There must have been eight attempts at treacle tart in the bin over the last two weeks."

"There's treacle tart?" Harry asked, taking his eyes off Teddy and losing his glasses as a consequence.

"Did she get any good at it?" Ron asked, rubbing his stomach.

"I don't know, she never let me taste it," Bill replied, then gave his brothers a hard look. "I don't care if it tastes like a mountain troll's toenail fungus, you will tell her that it is the best thing you have ever ate."

"Well, since dinner is a disaster," Ron said, "maybe we could skip to dessert?"

"I second that plan!" George exclaimed.

Percy withdrew his wand and summoned the tarts along with six forks.

oOo

Fleur was a mass of emotions as she raced up the stairs. She was shocked, angry, sad, and deeply hurt. Of the many ways she had imagined this day going, this had not been one of them. She had not imagined Molly unleashing on her. It made tears sting at the back of Fleur's eyes to remember the hateful words. She believed what she said to Bill. She knew Molly did not mean what she said, that it was the grief speaking, but it still hurt.

Fleur burst into the bedroom at the top of the third floor and froze, suddenly unsure of what her purpose was in being here. Molly sat hunched on the bed with her back to the door. Arthur stood nearby, red faced and bewildered. He looked more bewildered still as he looked up at Fleur standing in the doorway, hand still on the knob.

"Fleur," he croaked, he cleared his throat. "What-what is it, dear?"

Molly turned to look at her daughter-in-law, eyes puffy and red, but alert. More alert than they had been in weeks. At the sight of Fleur, Molly looked very ashamed and hid her face away. Fleur very quietly shut the door behind her.

"Your sons are very worried about you, Molly," Fleur said in a voice she thought was admirably calm sounding. "Zey zought zat having your family around might help ease your pain."

The room was silent until Molly felt pressured to speak.

"They are very thoughtful."

"Oui, but maybe zey were wrong," Fleur said, then shrugged, "or maybe not. I do not know anymore."

Fleur thought over the last few weeks. The many conversations she'd had with Mrs. Tonks, the way Andromeda could speak of her memories of Ted and Tonks despite deep grief, and of the people in the grief and loss group at the church. Fleur remembered what the priest said about there being a season for everything and how the bushy haired woman emphasized the importance of having people to help you through the grief.

"I wanted to make today work," Fleur said at long last. "For Bill and his brozzers, even zough I did not zink it was a good idea. I learned how to make all zose English meals and on zee way I zink maybe I learned somezing about life and loss too."

She licked her lips before continuing.

"I went to a Muggle church…"

"Really?" said Arthur, but at Fleur and Molly's reproachful glares, added, "I mean, go on."

"Zere was a group meeting zere of people who had lost somebody. Zey spoke of zeir grief and zee way it…weighed zem down. And zee woman, zee leader of zee group said it was important zat zey had support, even if it was from zese strangers. But Molly, you have a whole family who is willing to help you and who need your help to shoulder zeir own pain and guilt."

Fleur turned to Arthur then, "And I know you wanted to protect zee children by keeping Molly's condition a secret, but zey are not, in fact, children. Bill is strong enough to put zis family on his shoulders, but zee same strength is in all of zem, even George. You have to put your silly English lip away and come together as a family, depend on one another if you are going to...move forward."

Molly was not looking at her, but Arthur was, his eyes fathomless and emotional. Regardless if they heard her or not, Fleur had nothing more to say. Before she too began crying, she nodded and left the room.

oOo

George was the first to see Fleur as she came downstairs. He stood from the table, hands in his back pockets, alerting his brothers to her presence. She gave him a small smile, looking sad and beautiful all at once.

"Hey, Fleur," he said. "None of us wish to trade you for Fred."

That broke the dam on Fleur's tears. She rushed over to George and hugged him tightly.

"_Merci_," she mumbled into his chest. "I am so sorry about Fred. I wish—I wish I had time to know him better."

George smiled sadly, "Fred was hard to know. He—he only liked people to see his mad side. Besides, he was afraid that Bill would hex him to kingdom come if he looked at you sideways."

"Too true," Bill said with a twinkle in his eyes and there were laughs all around the table.

"Fleur, this treacle tart is amazing," Harry said, "and I'm not just saying that because Bill threatened to end my time as the Boy Who Lived if I didn't."

She looked at the table where one and a half of the tarts had already been consumed straight out of the pan.

"Well, I am glad you liked it, but savor it for I shall never make anozzer one. I am done wiz English cooking."

Bill's eyes were on her and Fleur could read the concern in them. She tried to smile bravely for him, willing him to see that she was strong and not to worry. Although, she thought, she might feel better for a good, long cry. At the moment, she felt rather like a wrung out rag.

"I zink maybe I would like to go home."

Bill started to stand, but Ron put a hand on Bill's shoulder and pushed him back into his seat as Ron vacated his own beside his big brother.

"No, Fleur, you belong here with us. Take my seat."

"Thanks, Ron," Bill said, "but keep your seat. Come here, love."

Bill held his hand out to her and Fleur smiled fully this time. She slid onto his lap, her legs tucked between his spread thighs, his arm coming around her comfortingly. She pressed her face into the crook his neck, reaching up to lightly trace his scars in that way only she knew how. The way that soothed his tender skin and even sent waves of pleasure washing over his sensitive nerves. She frowned when she felt that a few of them were swollen and more raw than usual.

Bill caught her hand and kissed it.

"It's nothing, love," he murmured. "Would you like some of the tart? It really is good."

"I did Incy Wincy Spider, just like Mrs. Tonks taught me and _voila_! _Parfait_!"

Ron's fork clattered to the table.

"What about spiders?"

Just then, Arthur came tramping down the stairs.

"Fleur, I am so glad you are still here."

She sat up, alert to trouble. Fleur could feel the tension in Bill's body that said he too was alert to a new disaster.

"What is wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," Arthur responded, then, "Well, everything, but nothing new. I—I just wanted to thank you for everything. You have been amazing these last weeks and I…I am proud to have you as my daughter."

Fleur was overcome by tears again. She threw herself into Arthur's arms, soaking his shoulder.

"But you'll tell me about the Muggle church later, right?" he said awkwardly, patting her back.

"_Oui_, all about it, I promise," she laughed, stepping back.

"Good, excellent." Arthur looked around. "Where are Andromeda and Audrey then?"

Fleur hadn't even realized that they were gone. She looked to Bill, but it was Percy who answered.

"Andromeda came sweeping in here demanding Audrey come with her. I think they are in the garden."

"Well, no matter," Arthur said. "Molly…she is embarrassed and she is sorry, but she is not ready to come downstairs and face you all."

"Zere is nothing to be sorry for," Fleur assured him.

"Yes, there is, but thank you. Regardless, maybe we should get some take away and try to salvage something of this day?"

* * *

A/N 2: So, I have foolishly joined The 25 Days of Christmas competition on Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenge. They have to be posted by December 20, so my goal is to start posting two a day beginning next Monday, December 16. It's called _A Very Weasley Christmas._ If you are enjoying _Scarves_, I hope you will take the time to check them out.

Oh, and don't forget to review!


	6. Part 6: A Season for Everything

Author's Notes: So this chapter owes a lot to my best friend, Lori, but more on that later…

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Part Six: A Season for Everything

October was coming to a close. Molly-Andromeda at her side-stood in the snowy Hogsmeade street, looking up at Hogwarts in trepidation. Quite aside from the fact that Molly had not returned to the castle since the Battle, today was a kind of reckoning for her. She would have to face Ginny, who had been informed by Arthur of Molly's recent behavior. She would also have to face her grief head on, and she was not entirely certain she was ready for that.

But Molly had not been given a choice, not after her outburst.

The last two weeks, had been like coming out of fog-and a bit too quickly at that. Arthur made it clear that things were going to change, and he had the full support of their children. They were _concerned_ for her. Moreover, they were all aware of her…behavior, even Charlie and Ginny. For Molly's part, she felt quite contrite and just plain embarrassed. How had she let things get so out of control? And then, of course, there was her outburst-as she had taken to thinking of it.

Oh, the fretful letters she had received from Charlie and Ginny:

_'Mum, _

_I wasn't planning to be home 'til Christmas, but I'll come sooner. Mary wants to stay in Romania, but she'll let me bring Pax. She was very concerned when I read Dad's letter to her. She remembers your kindness and is thankful for your help in delivering Pax safely. She wishes you well and I want you to know that I love you. Please be well….' _

That was Charlie's way of saying Molly had scared him out of his wits. She had written back and told him to stay put, she would see him at Christmas. It had been hard, Molly liked having her children close to home, but it was the right thing to do. And it meant that she wouldn't have to face him so soon.

_'Mum! _

_I am coming home right now. I can't believe what Dad has told me, I didn't know…Why didn't you tell me you needed help? I can be there for you. I can take care of you. I am packing my trunk and I will speak to McGonagall in the morning. Maybe she will set up some sort of home schooling program for me…' _

Molly had cried and cried over that one. Her little girl thought she needed to leave school to take care of her dear, old, feeble mother. Molly had written back to Ginny and told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was to stay at Hogwarts and complete her N.E. .

But nothing compared to facing Bill again. It had been the very next day, over breakfast. Molly had been sitting quietly over porridge when Bill, accompanied by Percy, had walked into the kitchen. Bill had been grim faced and Percy solemn. Molly had set down her spoon and stood immediately.

"Boys," she said weakly. "I-I wasn't expecting you this morning."

"Good morning, Mum," Percy said. He shoved his glassed up his nose, keeping his mouth in a firm line.

But Molly had watched Bill. He stood behind his younger brother, leaning against the worktop, hands laced loosely in front of him.

"Good morning, dear," she said in a perfunctory manner. "Bill."

"Mum," her eldest replied in a low voice, nodding his head once.

"I-is Fleur with you?"

"Dad asked that just the two of us come," Percy answered.

"Bill," Molly said shrilly. She came around the table, her hands clenching in front of her. "I am so sorry about yesterday, about yelling at Fleur. I was wrong and I didn't mean it."

"I know, Mum," Bill said flatly, his eyes blank.

"I never meant to imply that Fleur should have died. I would never want that. I would never want you to know that pain."

"I know that. Everybody from Fleur to George has assured me of that, and I forgive you. So does Fleur."

Bill said the words, but Molly was not so sure he felt them, not yet. She had hurt him with her carelessness, she knew she had. Now there was a distance between her and her eldest child that had never been there before, that she had never imagined could be there. It was ironic really. From the moment Bill had brought that beautiful, French girl home, Molly had feared that Fleur would lure Bill away from her, but in the end Molly had lost him at her own hands.

"I should speak to Fleur, then," she said hollowly. "Make amends."

"Yes."

"Ah, Molly, boys, glad you are here," came Arthur's voice from the stairs.

That was when Molly knew that her family had talked about her situation. That they had made plans for her. Well, she was in no position to argue, so she sat at the table and listened as Arthur laid it out.

"I am going to ask Kingsley-I mean the Minister—to scale back my hours," he opened. "So that I can be home with you in the evenings."

"But, Arthur, the overtime…"

"We only have one child at home now, Molly, and I am making more money than I ever have before, we will be fine."

"We're a family, Mum," said Percy, reaching across the table to take her hand, "we will pull together if there is need."

"Not that there will be," Arthur had said stoutly. "Percy, why don't you explain the next part."

"Audrey says the orphanage needs help," he started, spreading his hands out.

"The orphanage?" Molly echoed.

Percy looked at her. "The Home for Orphans of the War. The foundation Audrey has been working at since May 15, Mum."

"Oh, yes, of course." She felt a little foggy. She knew that Percy's girlfriend worked at an orphanage, but she hadn't spared much thought for it, she supposed. Then a stray thread laced through her mind, and she said aloud, "You worked there, too, for a time."

"I volunteered there before I returned to the Ministry, yes."

"The thing is, Molly," Arthur said, "you are going to volunteer there a few days a week. They need more people to help with the children and, well, you're Molly Weasley."

She nodded. "Yes, I suppose I am."

Not that she felt much like Molly Weasley. The identity she had forged in the last twenty-eight years-homemaker, mother of seven-felt like another person entirely. She felt adrift, as if she had no idea who this new woman who had lost one of her children was. And Molly didn't want to know her either, she would much rather deny her existence. Which, she supposed, was the whole problem.

"Good, great," Arthur said, he cupped her face and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"But," Bill cut in, "that's not all."

"Oh, yes, of course," Arthur said nervously. "Well, you see, Andromeda had this idea…she heard Fleur speaking about the—the—what did she call it?"

"A support group," Bill said. "Fleur told me about it that same day she had seen it."

"Yes, well, Andromeda wants to create a Wizarding version and she has enlisted Audrey's help."

"What?" Molly said, blinking, "Where?"

"Well," said Percy, "we don't know yet. They are meeting with Professor McGonagall today."

"That…that's quick."

"Audrey casts quickly when she has a new crusade."

"The point is, Mum," Bill said matter-of-factly, not having moved from his spot by the worktop, "that once the group gets up and running, you are going to attend the meetings."

"Oh, no," she protested, "I don't think so."

"I do, Molly," Arthur said quietly. "I think it would do all of us some good."

She shook her head. "No, I couldn't."

"We'll accompany you, dear."

"No, please…"

"Mum," Percy said in a stern voice so that she looked him full in the face, "we will bodily escort you there if we must."

Molly knew she had been defeated. She also knew in that moment the true measure of how bad things had gotten. Her children were scared for her, well and truly. She would do this then, she would do this for them.

"But I will go on my own," she asserted.

Arthur's brow furrowed. "I would like to go with you, and not just for you. I think we could all benefit from this." He looked pointedly at Bill and Percy. "This family has been in a vacuum since Fred died and there is no need to be. Many Wizarding families have lost someone…Andromeda lost everyone. We need to pull together as a community, we need to heal together."

"Okay, but not at first. Let me do this on my own."

And so, Molly stood on a snowy Hogsmeade street two weeks later.

"Come along, Molly," Andromeda said. They had met at the Burrow earlier and left Teddy in Fleur's care. It had been the first time Molly had seen Fleur. They had only exchanged the most perfunctory (and polite) of pleasantries.

"So, Pomona and Hermione helped you in this?" Molly asked to fill the silence.

"Yes, Minerva assigned them the task. Evidently, Professor Sprout has some experience in this area already, albeit informally. And Hermione…well, she really is the brightest witch of her day, isn't she?"

As they neared the castle, Andromeda turned rather abruptly and then, "I'm nervous too."

"Oh," Molly said dumbly, blinking.

"I just wanted you to know you were not alone."

"Thank you."

Hogwarts, nearly returned to its glory, was beautiful in the snow that blanketed the grounds and turrets. As it was Halloween, jack o' lanterns floated five high on either side of the entrance where McGonagall stood amongst her staff, greeting the arrivals. Molly recognized Irma Diggory, and the remaining Bones family. Richard Abbott walked with Neville Longbottom. A woman who must be Dennis Creevey's mother was also there.

_But wasn't she a Muggle_?

Molly expressed this aloud and Andromeda smiled proudly.

"It was Hermione's idea to include the families of Muggleborns and Minerva somehow made it happen. The idea was to give them a place where they could speak openly about their loss and maybe come to understand the world their child lived in. I tried to convince Ted's mum to come today, but she has her own way of dealing with things."

McGonagall greeted Molly warmly at the entrance, then pulled Andromeda aside. Molly found herself looking around the Great Hall, seeing even more people and families she knew. The Brocklehursts, the Hopkins, even Aberforth Dumbledore, of all people. Oh, dear, there was Oliver Wood with his younger brother. She'd forgotten there was a fourth Wood boy, he looked about thirteen.

Molly remembered the night their older brothers had died. It had been a few months before Dumbledore's death. They had been members of the Order of the Phoenix, recruited by Bill after the Battle of the Ministry. Dougal and Fergus Wood, Gryffindors the same ages as her two oldest boys. The four of them had been the closest of friends. That night, Bill had been in the skirmish with the Wood boys and had narrowly survived himself. He'd been devastated by his friends' deaths when Arthur had hauled Bill back to the Order Headquarters.

Molly had been equally affected. She had known those boys, they had stayed in her home during the summer hols. Dougal had been married and had a baby, for Merlin's sake! More than anything, however, it had taken her back to the night Gideon and Fabian died. Two brothers wiped out in an instant at the hands of Death Eaters.

Molly had made a cake to send with Bill when he and the Order had taken the bodies to the Wood family estate. Now she regretted that. Molly should have gone to Cal and Roberta herself. They had sent a lovely letter of condolences after Fred died, but they had been retrieving their daughter-in-law, a Muggleborn, and grandson from Europe at the time of the funeral.

As Molly watched, the remaining Wood boys were joined by a pretty, young, blond girl who was obviously pregnant. She took Oliver's hand and he smiled at her. Molly was astonished to see that Percy's best mate, his dorm mate, was going to be a father. Were the two married then?

"Katie Bell," said a voice in her ear.

Molly squeaked.

"Ginerva Weasley, do not go sneaking up on a body like that, young lady!"

Ginny smirked at her mother and for a moment Molly was forcibly reminded of Fred.

"Oliver's wife, her name is Katie. They played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team together. Does that answer any of your questions?"

"She looks awfully young."

"Pfft. As if you were not 19 and pregnant once," Ginny replied saucily, crossing her arms.

Molly wagged her finger. "You have a lot of cheek, young lady."

"Hm, wonder where that came from?"

"Oh, you!" Molly hugged her only daughter, tears coming to her eyes. She was grateful beyond measure to be able to hold this girl, her youngest child.

"How are you, Mum?" Ginny asked quietly, hugging her mother fiercely.

"Muddling through."

"That's not what I hear. I don't understand what happened."

"I don't either," Molly said, unable to meet Ginny's eyes.

"Dad said you were in a-a stupor? What does that mean?"

"I guess," Molly tried. "Well, there was nothing left to do, I suppose I was hiding from…everything, really. I don't know."

"And there's more," Ginny challenged gently, "I can tell by the letters that part of the story is being left out."

Molly sighed, looking sheepish. "I might have implied that I wished Fleur had died instead of Fred?"

Ginny's eyes went round. "Mum! I fancy that went over well with Bill, did it?"

"Well, no. He says he forgives me, but he is…angry with me."

"And Fleur?" Ginny demanded hotly, hands on her hips. Ginny liked her sister-in-law a good deal more than she used to, but she would always side with her mum, even when Molly was wrong.

"She has been lovely and helpful, more than I know even. I have been unfair to her."

Thankfully, they were interrupted by Dennis Creevey bringing his parents over.

"Sorry, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley," the boy, who looked to have grown three inches since June when Molly had seen him last, said tentatively. "I wanted my parents to meet you."

"I am Sue Creevey," said the woman, she had blonde hair that was liberally streaked with grey. "And this is my husband, Maxwell. Dennis has told us about your kindness after…after the Battle, Mrs. Weasley. I wanted to thank you."

Molly pressed her lips together. Holding little Dennis had been easy, easier than anything she had done in the 24 hours prior to that. It was right, it was natural. And she could hold that young boy in his grief in a way she could not hold her grown children in theirs.

"I was privileged," Molly whispered. "He is a brave boy."

Dennis blushed, looking down at his overlarge feet. Mrs. Creevey squeezed his arm, smiling sadly. Then she looked at Molly and said, "But I understand you lost your own son?"

"One of them, yes. I have—had six sons and Ginny."

Mr. Creevey cleared his throat uncomfortably. "We wanted to thank you, as well, Ginny. Dennis has told us how fiercely protective you were of the younger students. And…and Colin always spoke well of you."

"We were the same year, Colin and I," Ginny said, tears in her eyes. "I miss him, we were friends. In fact, he was my first friend, when I needed one most. He…he had a big heart and he was so brave and for us Gryffindors there is no higher compliment."

"C'mon, Mum, Dad," Dennis said. "I want you to meet Neville. I didn't think he would be here, but…"

The Creeveys waved goodbye, leaving Ginny and Molly alone and teary eyed.

"I think it might be a hard day," Ginny said with a thin smile. She brushed a tear away with the pad of her thumb.

Molly took a breath. "Yes, I reckon it will be."

"Let's find some seats, shall we?"

The long tables and benches had been cleared out of the Great Hall in favor of comfortable chairs forming a circle. Professor Flitwick and Hermione were levitating more chairs into the Hall to accommodate all of the people who had come for that day's meeting. Molly choose a seat in a far corner and Ginny settled in beside her.

"You don't have to stay with me, dear," Molly said.

"I'm not here for you," Ginny said. "I lost Fred too. And Professor Lupin and Tonks and Sirius and Mad-Eye. Colin, Demelza, Jack Sloper, half of my year are gone. I am here for me."

"Oh. It's just, I was hoping to do this on my own."

"Well, think again. Besides, doing things on your own hasn't served you well thus far."

Properly chastened, Molly ceased to argue and turned to face the center of the circle. By some sort of consensus, all of those who were attending had moved to seats in the Great Hall and conversation quieted. McGonagall swept in, imposing as always in her tartan robes, capturing everyone's attention without a word. Andromeda, Sprout, Hermione and Audrey followed in her wake.

"Goodness," McGonagall said. "I wasn't expecting such a large turnout for this first meeting of this…what did you call it, Miss Granger?"

"A support group," Hermoine responded.

"Ah, yes. We are here to support one another in our loss and grief, but I think these four witches can tell you our purpose better than I can, so I will turn it over to them."

McGonagall sat and Hermione and Audrey came forward.

"In the Muggle world, we have a science called psychiatry," Hermione said. "Perhaps it is not a science precisely, for it deals with the mind and emotions. Muggles often band together to help each other in difficult times, like grief and loss and trauma. Everybody in this room has experienced those emotions."

Audrey stepped forward, tucking a curl into her Alice band. "These meetings are often conducted by professionals, trained in dealing with loss. We don't have such people in the Wizarding world, but we do have Pomona Sprout."

Sprout stepped forward then. "After Cedric Diggory was murdered in the Triwizard Tournament, the children of my House were distraught. Many of them were depressed, some even angry. I instituted meetings every Sunday, a time when we could speak of Cedric and of our fears and pain. Today is no different. We are here to support one another. No one is required to speak, but we do ask that you be respectful of other people's time and words. Now, I give you Andromeda Tonks."

Sprout, Hermione and Audrey sat down, leaving Andromeda in the center of the circle. Her hands were clasped in front of her and she looked very small and vulnerable. Molly couldn't look at this woman, who had become her friend over the most strenuous of circumstances. Molly couldn't bear to be as stripped down as Andromeda was right now.

"This is my second Christmas without Ted," she said without ceremony. "Today is Halloween and so we are all turning our minds to that next great hurdle, I would suppose. Last year, however, I knew that Ted was out there, that he was thinking of me, of Dora and the baby, maybe even our son-in-law. I knew that he was biding his time on the run until he could return to us. But this year, he is gone, Dora is gone and so is Remus, though I can't quite…touch that yet. That my daughter is gone, I can't speak of it."

Andromeda stopped to gather herself together before continuing,

"Anyway, what I wanted to say is that sometimes I feel like the one biding her time to return to her family now. I know that is the way my mother-in-law feels and how she copes with her loss, but she is an old woman at the end of her life. I am not yet 45 years-old. I have more than fifty years left to me, I have an infant grandson to raise, but I feel as though my life has ended. Am I allowed to have a life now?"

"Yes." Irma Diggory stood, clutching her handkerchief in her hand. "Eventually, yes, but it's going to be a long time before you are ready for that. When Cedric…died, I had to learn to take each step as it came and not look forward too far, but also not to look backward too much. Each day as it comes, Andromeda, and it will get easier. I just wish I could say the same thing to Amos and have him hear me. The loss of Cedric has torn him to pieces and he can't put them back together again. I fear for our marriage at times."

"It changes you, the loss," Richard Abbott said gruffly. "Makes you act out of character, out of your mind. I did things, I said things I regret so terribly. I don't know who I was after Elise died." He looked at his daughter, Hannah, sitting beside him. "I am lucky that I have people who love me enough to see me through."

"We're Hufflepuffs, Dad," she said, but it was unmistakable, as she sat between her father and Neville, that there was a distance both physical and emotional between father and daughter. "Loyalty above all else."

"What about you, Hannah?" Sprout asked kindly. "You lost your mother early on, how do you cope?"

Neville leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and reaching out to take the girl's hand. For her part, Hannah Abbott looked stricken, but she clung to that supporting hand, seemingly finding strength from it. She wiped her eyes and sniffed loudly.

"I wasn't given much choice, was I?" she said. "My mum was dead and my dad as good as with the drinking and the crying. My older brother was useless, so it was all left to me to keep things from going to pieces for all that it earned me was being screamed at that I could never replace her, my own mum. As if I even wanted to!"

"I'm sorry, Hannah," Richard cried. "I didn't mean it. I am so grateful…"

"Then I had to return to Hogwarts, only it wasn't Hogwarts. It was a warzone and I could either be a victim or a soldier," she said, ignoring her father. "So I fought. And I found that my friends were people I could lean on when it hurt so bad that I couldn't go on."

"How did your friends help you?" Sprout asked patiently.

Hannah cocked her head to one side, regarding Sprout speculatively, then a little smile came to her face.

"Susan—my best friend, Susan Bones, she'd put her arms around me and cry, too. Then she would tell funny stories about her aunt who had been killed and I would tell stories about Mum. Then we would be laughing and it didn't hurt so much. Ernie—Ernie is so daft! He would make me throw the Quaffle around until my arms hurt and all I wanted to do was bash him over the head."

A little wave of laughter went through the room. All around, witches and wizards relaxed just a little.

Hannah's proud smile turned inward and she looked at Neville. "And some just offered a shoulder to cry on and their silent understanding."

"That's why we are here," Sprout said sagely. "To offer one another a listening ear, even someone to laugh with. Also know that grief is difficult and we all handle it differently, some not so well. We are not here to judge, just to empathize."

There was a silence now. Everybody looking around to see who would speak next, none quite brave enough to do so themselves.

_It's too soon_, Molly thought. The wounds were too fresh to be probed at like this. Honestly, what was Andromeda thinking? Or Sprout, for that matter? Audrey and Hermione were young and idealistic, what did they know of life? But Andromeda and Sprout should have known better. That there were things that just shouldn't be said, and hurts that cannot be mended. And Arthur, making her come here, foolish old man…

Molly would just leave. She'd go back to the Burrow, tell Arthur that this was silly, it wouldn't work. She would get up now, she would go now…But Sue Creevey was standing, ringing her hands and looking so nervous and so brave. _Her son was a Gryffindor_, Molly thought proudly.

"I want to thank you all for including us-the Muggle parents, that is-in this meeting. I had been to a few meetings like this in our local church, but I couldn't speak openly about my boy, my Colin, that I lost. And of my Dennis who is old beyond his years…"

After that, it seemed that it was easier for people to speak. One after another stood and spoke of their lost loved ones, of their grief, of the difficulties of muddling through day to day life. People cried and hugged and laughed even. But Molly sat in her chair on the far edges of the room, her shawl pulled tight around her shoulders. Even when Ginny spoke, not of Fred, but of her brother and sister Gryffindors. Molly did not look up, she did not make eye contact with anyone and she didn't embrace her daughter after she spoke. That was Neville Longbottom offering his commiseration.

Then a more gentle silence came over the group.

Sprout stood, "Does anybody else have anything they wish to say?"

Molly felt Ginny's eyes on her, but she did not look up.

"I do."

It was McGonagall. She stood tall and proud, commanding the attention of everybody in the Great Hall as if this were merely a Transfiguration class. Even Molly found herself looking at her old professor. There was nothing weak or vulnerable about McGonagall, not like Molly had seen in Andromeda. The old professor was as strong as ever.

"As some of you know, life has offered me much loss and much grief. I have lived through three wars now and I have made sacrifices to each," McGongall said with dignity. "I have grieved for many. I have grieved deeply. Not the least of which for so many of the sons and daughters we are speaking of today. Children who have come through my hands to be taught magic, but I hope that I have taught them the importance of honor, fairness and bravery while they were here. And also kindness and humor."

McGonagall smiled and looked around. Her eyes settled on Molly's. It was if the old professor spoke to Molly personally,

"But the lesson I want to teach you today, is the thing that took me years, perhaps decades to learn. Please know this: there will be good days and bad days, sometimes in the very same day. But as time goes on, the good will outnumber the bad and life goes on. It must, there is no other way."

McGonagall's eyes shone brightly, but she had that mysterious smile on her face that said she knew all the secrets of the world. In that moment, something inside Molly broke. Pain exploded in her chest so that she gasped aloud. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heart racing.

"Mum?"

Tears came to Molly's eyes, it hurt so badly. She tried to stand, she needed air. Surely, if she could just breathe, it wouldn't hurt so badly. But her knees betrayed her and she sank to the floor. A desperate noise escaped her throat and heat rushed to her face.

"Mum!" Ginny was by her side, clutching her arm.

Andromeda was at Molly's other side, calling for Madame Pomfrey, but it was as if her voice was coming from far off. Molly fell forward, bracing herself on her arms, gasping breaths coming from her lungs. She tried to focus on the stone floor below her.

"Molly," it was a sharp command and she couldn't ignore it. Molly looked up into the wizened face of Minerva McGonagall. The old woman took Molly's wrists in her strong, wrinkled hands and forced Molly to sit up. "Show some dignity, please."

The last was said quietly. Molly fixed her eyes on the familiar face, trying to regain control of her breath.

"I failed them," she whispered.

In her mind, Molly catalogued all of the ways she had failed her children. Bill's scarred face. Percy's guilt and the burns that rippled across his back. George's missing ear and…and Fred. The scars that twisted up Ron's arms and neck, the visible evidence of so many more close calls. And Ginny, her beautiful girl, whose veins in her chest are unnaturally blue against her pale, freckled skin. A sure sign of being Crucioed too many times. And Fred was dead, gone from her forever.

"You taught them," McGonagall said, "that there are things worth dying for. You taught them empathy and goodness. That is not failing them, Molly. That is everything that is right in our world."

"I couldn't protect them."

"It was war, Molly."

"Do you think you are the first to tell me that?" Molly raged. "'It was a war,' Arthur says. 'We knew what we were in for,' Bill says. My baby is gone and every single one of my children bear the marks of this bloody war. Even Arthur shows the scars on his shoulder where that snake took a bite out of him. What does my body show? Stretch marks! Stretch marks and sagging breasts and wide hips that prove that I carried them in my body and suckled them at my breasts. That prove that I am their mother and I failed them when they needed me most. Because where was I when war took Bill's face and Ron's innocence and Freddie's life? I was in the damned kitchen when I should have been protecting them!

"The only other one besides me to show no marks is Fleur, but she was there when I couldn't be, wasn't she? Offering shelter to Ron and Harry and caring for Hermione and Percy's injuries and offering comfort when I have nothing left to offer. She was even able to protect George with her damned Veela magic or I might have lost him too.

"Oh, dear…Oh, dear!"

Molly shook her head. That didn't sound right. She didn't still resent Fleur, did she? Not when the girl had proven herself over and over to be a strong and brave mate to her son. Oh, Merlin. It wasn't about Fleur, but it was so hard to think about Fred. It was hard to let herself feel the gaping hole inside her heart or to feel the anger she had for herself, for Arthur, for Fred even. And so easy to resent Fleur, who just didn't quite fit.

"I can't do this, not here, not today," Molly said wildly, getting to her feet. "I have to go, I have something I need to do."

She hurried out of the Great Hall, leaving Ginny and McGonagall and all the rest behind. The cold wind hit her face the moment she burst out of the doors, stinging her eyes and cooling her over heated skin. She breathed deeply as she nearly ran to the Apparition point beyond the gates, heedless of pursuit. Then the next moment, she was in her own snow free yard, staring up at the overcast sky that hung over the Burrow. She could see the candles burning inside the kitchen, beckoning her with the comfort of familiarity.

Slowly, Molly walked up the path and through the gate. As she neared, she could see Fleur passing by the window, her perfect hair pulled back and glowing in the candlelight. Molly stopped for a moment to try to think things through, struggling for a moment of clarity that seemed out of reach. The one thing she knew was that she couldn't go on as she had been and that amends needed to be made.

The kitchen was welcomingly warm and dry as she stepped inside. Fleur looked up, a ball of yarn in her hands, and smiled. The young woman launched into a stream of babble that washed over Molly, who watched the girl closely. Fleur was beautiful, even when plainly dressed as she was now. Her voice was musical, the flick of her hand, the tilt of her head were graceful. But Molly could see now, the nervousness in the overly correct posture, the insecurity in the chatter that seemed a little too carefully edited, the self-consciousness in the perfect smile.

"And so," Fleur said, "it is almost November and you are behind on zee Weasley jumpers, so I thought maybe I could help you. I have been teaching myself to knit and I cannot make a sweater yet, but I zought we could do scarves zis year…if zat is okay wiz you?"

Fleur looked at Molly with wide eyes, scared of rebuke. Molly dashed across the kitchen and pulled the taller, younger woman into a crushing hug. At first, Fleur was stiff, but then she melted against Molly, wrapping her arms around the shorter, rounder woman and laying her head against her mother-in-law's shoulder.

"Thank you," Molly whispered, tears in her eyes. There was so much she should say to Fleur, but she hoped that she could convey it all in the feeling she put behind those two words. _Thank you for loving my son. Thank you for trying when I didn't want to return the effort. Thank you for fighting a war with my family. _

"You're welcome," Fleur murmured graciously, plainly. She straightened and wiped tears from her blue eyes.

"I didn't know it would be so difficult to share my family with another woman," Molly said thoughtfully, dabbing her own eyes. "I have behaved badly to you."

"I am not so easy to know or maybe to like."

"But I love you, Fleur, I do. If I had tried to see you sooner, you are very easy to like. Obviously! My son likes you very well."

A watery laugh sputtered up and Fleur smiled.

"I know he is angry wiz you and I am working on him. I will bring him around."

"Well, Bill has cause to be angry with me, I am afraid."

"You are his mozzer!"

"And you are his wife and I said terrible things to you."

"It is in the past."

"It is kind of you to say that," Molly said, looking at their clasped hands. Then, "But I am having a very hard time reconciling myself to the not-so-distant past. I-I don't know how to begin whatever my life is to be now, after Fred's death."

Fleur regarded Molly silently for a long time, her head tilted gracefully to one side. Finally, she said, "Well, I suppose zat is the first step."

"Mum!"

The door banged open, a gust of cold air blowing in to tousle Fleur's hair and Molly's skirts. Ginny stood in the threshold looking rather crazed and windswept herself. Her face was white with fear, but a myriad of emotions played across her features in quick succession. Relief, confusion, finally indignation.

"Ginny, close the door!" Molly hollered.

"You give me the scare of my life and that is all you have to say to me?"

"You're letting the cold air in," Molly said matter-of-factly.

"Mental!" Ginny huffed as she shut the door.

Molly hugged her. "I am sorry, dear."

"Don't ever do that again, Mum, I was so scared."

"I won't, I promise. I-I'm going to get ahold of myself, somehow."

"Well, you don't have to do it alone."

Molly extended her arm to Fleur, noting the delighted smile on her face as she went into Molly's arms. She hugged her two girls tightly.

"I should have known that, shouldn't I?" she said absently.

* * *

A/N2: When we were in our early 20s, Lori and I lost a number of close people in a short period of time. Including her dad, my uncle and a young man whose importance cannot be easily defined. A lot of what I learned about grief and life during that time went into the writing of this story. But, the words McGonagall says at the end of the meeting? Those are Lori's pearls of wisdom and they were hard earned.

A/N3: On a brighter note: Wednesday is my birthday. I'll be 34 again. So leave me a gift in the form of a review if you please!

Oh, and next week is the Epilogue: Weasley Scarves. Thanks so much for reading!


	7. Epilogue: Weasley Scarves

Author's Note: This is coming to you a smidge early. I just finished wrapping my kids' gifts and I am exhausted. I simply cannot stay up another hour, so hear goes...

Oh! And one more thing...Thank you to everybody who has read, favorited, followed, and reviewed Scarves.

Disclaimer: The world and characters (most of them) belong to JK Rowling.

* * *

Epilogue: Weasley Scarves

"Bill Weasley, is that a Muggle contraption you are bringing inside my house?"

"I told you she would not like it," Fleur laughed, carrying a basket.

"It's Dad's Christmas gift," Bill replied, his eyes sparking with mischief, "but you'll like it too."

"Hmph!" was Molly's response to that.

"What is this then?" Arthur asked, coming into the kitchen, eyes bright. "A recordery player?"

"A record player," Bill said. "And no tinkering with it, Dad, I have it set up just so."

"Well, bring it into the sitting room, let's see how it works."

"You are not taking it apart."

Fleur set the basket on the table, pulling palm sized objects out and reversing the Shrinking spells.

"And I found some nice Christmas records."

"But I already have Celestina Warbeck on the wireless," Molly protested.

Fleur grinned.

"Mrs. Tonks helped me pick zem out, you will like it I zink!"

"Don't think I don't know what you are up to, Fleur Weasley!" Molly shrieked after the retreating form of her daughter-in-law.

Molly harrumphed again and went about peeling the parsnips for dinner. Soon Celestina's voice stopped and was replaced by some Muggle man's voice. Well, his voice was smooth and the song jolly. Still, it just wasn't Christmas without Celestina.

Not that it felt much like Christmas anyway. It seemed the family had come to a silent agreement that they were going to make the best of the holidays-the first since Fred died-and at least go through the motions. But each day seemed a struggle getting here. Many times Molly had wanted to chuck it all—the knitting, the baking, the carols—and retire to her bed. Yet, there was nowhere to go but forward. And besides, Freddie loved Christmas, he would hate that it was cancelled on his account.

So, with that in mind, Arthur, Ron and Harry dragged a tree in last night and the girls decorated it as Molly baked treacle tarts. She hung wreaths and tsked after Ron for hanging mistletoe all over the house. As if she didn't know what that was about! (Of course, Arthur had trapped her under the mistletoe several times already…)And Molly played her Christmas music as she extended invitations to the Lovegoods and Andromeda and Kingsley.

Goodness, the Minister of Magic would be at her table for Christmas dinner. So would the Grangers. Oh, dear, it was a good thing Fleur offered to help with the cooking, even if she wouldn't make any English dishes.

Molly noticed Ron and Harry crowded in the sitting room examining the new Muggle thing along with Arthur. Bill was spinning Fleur around the room. Percy would be here soon, along with Audrey. He'd been roped into playing Father Christmas at the orphanage later that day, something that George insisted he had to see to believe. And that George could look forward to anything this day, let alone find humor in it, was a small blessing. So, they were all going to the orphanage to close out their Christmas day.

The shop had kept George busy in the lead up to Christmas, but Molly knew he was struggling. She heard it from Ron or Percy or even Fleur, who George would confide in. As for Molly, she was trying to respect his space, knowing that he had people to support him. She would be there when he needed her.

"So, Mum," trilled Fleur, "not so bad, _oui_?"

"I suppose," Molly said, not striving to be diplomatic in the least. "When will Charlie be here?"

"When he gets his lazy bones out of bed," Bill answered as he strode into the room. He was pestering his wife as she pulled dishes out of the basket and laid them out on the table.

"Will Mary come?"

Molly did not miss the look that passed between Bill and Fleur.

"Maybe," Fleur said. "She is having a hard time wiz Christmas, she is sad about her husband not being here."

"But it's little Pax's first Christmas," Molly cried, "surely she doesn't want to miss that."

"Charlie will get her to come around," Bill said diplomatically.

Molly didn't know what to think of Charlie's…situation. He seemed quite besotted by the war widow, who was not over losing her husband. And even more than that, Charlie was very taken with the woman's son. Charlie had been the man in the baby's life since he was only a few days old and Charlie was over the moon for the boy.

"Try not to worry," Fleur said quietly as she tied a blue striped apron on and flipped her hair back. "It will work itself out, one way or anozzer."

Molly sighed.

"I suppose." Then, "This is your third Christmas away from your home in France. Your mother must not like that very much."

"_Oui_, _Maman_ was very dramatic," Fleur said with a roll of her eyes, "but she understands that this is an important Christmas for the Weasleys to be togezzer. However, she did make me promise that we would holiday in France next year."

Just then, Molly saw Percy, Audrey and George coming up the path to the kitchen door. Percy was shooting worried looks over Audrey's head at his brother. George, meanwhile, just tucked his head down and moved forward rather determinedly, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Happy Christmas!" Audrey called brightly, she embraced Fleur, then Bill.

Percy kissed Molly's cheek and wandered into the living room with Bill, but George hung back. He tried to smile for Molly, but couldn't quite manage it. She pulled him into her arms and rocked him gently.

"I know, darling," she whispered. "It's hard."

"It is, but a wise woman told me once that hard things are easier once they're faced."

"Oh, who was that?"

"You!" George did smile then. "The night before I left for Hogwarts and was so scared, but afraid Fred would take the mickey if I told him."

"He was scared too, you know?"

"I do, now."

"We'll make it through this, too."

"I wish he could be here to see Percy in the Santa suit, he would have loved that."

"Yes, he would have," Molly agreed with a sniff. "There was nothing he loved more than teasing Percy and Christmas."

"Well…I suppose I'll have to work extra hard to enjoy them for the both of us then, won't I?"

"Mum!" Ron called, he was coming into the kitchen, pulling on his cloak. "I'm going to meet up with Hermione, we are Apparating her parents to the Burrow."

"Better go with you," George said, a glimmer of a twinkle in his eye. "Hate for you to splinch your future father-in-law."

"Well, don't be long, dears. I am anxious to open gifts before Kingsley and the Lovegoods get here."

oOo

"Mum, what is this?" George demanded as he held up the woolen scarf in the horrendous fuchsia and gold colors of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Molly blushed.

"I ran out of time to do jumpers this year, I hope you don't mind getting scarves."

"They're great, Molly," Arthur said, wrapping his red and gold striped scarf around his own neck. "I have a dozen jumpers, but my old scarf was a bit ratty."

Fleur fingered her pink scarf lovingly. Molly had made this for her and she could see the loops were more complicated and the wool softer than the other scarves. She looked across the sitting room at her mother-in-law, tears in her eyes. Molly gave her a small smile.

Molly sniffed.

"Well, now that all of this is done," she said, vanishing the wrapping paper with her wand, "I'll just turn off the record-io player and—"

"Did I hear someone knocking on the door, Mrs. Weasley?" Audrey asked. She and Fleur had been with Molly all morning, keeping her away from the record player and keeping Celestina Warbeck off the wireless. Molly gave the girl a suspicious glare, but Audrey gave her a well-practiced, innocent smile.

"You two are going to be in so much trouble," Ginny whispered in Fleur's ear. The younger girl sat on the floor next to Fleur, Teddy in Ginny's lap. "She is going to figure out how to get around your machinations eventually."

"And until zen, we are Celestina Warblebeck free," Fleur laughed. She did not attempt Audrey's innocent smile, she was rubbish at it. Audrey was, after all, the youngest of five and could give Ginny a run for her money in the baby sister act.

Pax crawled over to Fleur, grabbing her arm and pulling himself up, he smiled at her, showing off four white teeth.

"_Joyeux Noel, mon petit monsieur_." She took the baby and set him in her lap, placing wet kisses on his rosy cheeks.

Teddy reached for Pax, his blue hair going black to mimic the other baby's. Their hands tangled and babyish giggles filled the room. A feeling like joy swelled Fleur's heart. She looked around and caught Bill's eye where he stood with Ron, Hermione and the Grangers. She gave him a secret, little smile as his eyes took her in, baby in her arms, and he smiled back. Suddenly, Fleur had an answer to the question he had asked all those months ago. She knew what she wanted to do next.

"Fleur," Ginny urged, "do that Muggle song for the boys."

Fleur squeezed Pax again, then climbed her long fingers as if walking up a water spout.

"Incy Wincy Spider," she sang huskily, "went up zee water spout…"

The babies giggled, clapping their hands, but Ron was standing over them, pale and gaping.

"What are you doing?" he gasped in horror.

"Honestly, Ron, it's just a Muggle nursery rhyme," Hermione admonished.

"But they are just babies, that's horrifying."

"Oh, and _The Warlock's Hairy Heart_ is a tale for the faint of heart."

"It's spiders, Hermione! Muggles are mad, the lot of them…" Then he looked at his Muggleborn girlfriend's parents and went a fiery shade of red.

Ginny laughed at her brother's agony, even as George flung an arm about his shoulders and did his best to salvage the moment. There was a general buzz of conversation over the strains of Christmas music. Charlie was sitting on the hearth with Mary, who was smiling despite the sadness in her eyes. Harry and Percy had the chess set out, Audrey propped on Percy's knee advising him. Arthur was peppering the Grangers with questions about Muggles, as Molly and Andromeda disappeared into the kitchen. Ron and Hermione were still squabbling in the corner, George helpfully taking the mickey. Bill came to sit beside Fleur and Pax, leaning on one hand and tickling the baby with the other.

"I just have one question," Ginny said, fingering the yellow scarf around her neck, "did you make my scarf?"

Fleur narrowed her eyes at her sister-in-law.

"Yes, why?"

"Well," Ginny smirked, holding the scarf aloft, "one side is wider than the other."

Bill laughed, Fleur tried to glare at him, but broke into a smile herself.

"I would like to see you do better," Fleur shot back.

Ginny laughed.

"We might make a Weasley out of you yet, Phlegm!" Then she reached across and hugged her sister-in-law. "Happy Christmas, Fleur, Bill."

She got up and wandered over to Harry, who was in serious trouble against Percy and Audrey. Bill took Pax and laid back, the baby sitting on his chest. Fleur cuddled in close, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand over his heart.

"Pax and Teddy don't notice my scars," he said, striving for a casual tone.

"_Non_, zey only see zeir good and kind Uncle Bill."

"And Teddy doesn't seem to have any of Remus's contamination."

"I always zought zat was a silly fear. Everybody knows zat lycanthropy is transmitted by werewolf bites _during_ zee full moon."

Bill tickled Pax under the chin and the baby giggled. Fleur looked at her husband, who was so handsome to her eyes. She reached up and kissed his cheek, stroking her fingers through his hair. He looked at her and smiled, then went back to playing with the baby. She felt warm and content in that moment.

oOo

Audrey bounced down the stairs.

"Okay, here he comes," she announced breathlessly. "No laughing, you lot."

"No laughing?" George demanded incredulously. "You mean like this?" He grabbed his belly as if it were large and pudgy and burst out with a loud, "Ho! Ho! Ho!"

"That's it, I'm not bloody doing this," Percy's voice could be heard just out of sight of the kitchen full of Weasleys and guests.

"No, Percy, it's not that bad," Audrey called desperately, turning back up the stairs. She shot a glare at George over her shoulder. "If he bails on me, George Weasley, I'm stuffing you in that Santa suit!"

Her pronouncement, though fierce, was met with much laughter.

"If Percy doesn't marry her, I will," George said. "She has spunk!"

"Oh, George," Mum admonished, as Charlie elbowed him in the ribs.

"I wouldn't worry on that account," Bill said, his arm around Fleur. "I think Percy has that well in hand. Or should I say, Audrey has got Percy wrapped around her little finger." Fleur elbowed him, but she was smiling, too. She knew it was true.

"She must," Ron said, looking rather wrapped about a girl's finger himself. "If she can get Perfect Prefect Percy into a Santa suit."

"I never would have thought it," Charlie chimed in, "She must be a great—" his mouth snapped shut and he went red all over.

"What were you about to say, Charlie Weasley?" Mum demanded, hands on her hips.

Three separate stinging hexes lit Charlie up at once, making him howl. Ginny, Fleur and Mary shared wicked looks as their wands disappeared.

"Really, Char," Bill drawled, "you'd think you lived on a dragon reserve with a mouth like that."

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" George chimed in, never one to be left out of a good ribbing.

"Boys," hushed Arthur. "Really, Charlie, you were raised better than that."

"Yes, sir," Charlie muttered miserably, rubbing various sore body parts.

Footsteps clumped down the stairs and a rather unhappy Percy appeared, Audrey pushing him from behind. One of them had done some nice transfiguration on his face and hair, giving him a long white beard and hair. He was wearing red, velvet robes over a big belly and big black boots that Bill realized were _his_ dragon hide boots.

"Oi!" Bill protested.

"See, Bill wants his boots back…" Percy tried.

"It's all for a good cause," Audrey said brightly. "Right, Bill?"

"You could ask next time," he growled.

"I asked your wife."

Bill glared down at his wife, who was blushing and avoiding eye contact.

"I'll deal with you later," he whispered in her ear.

Fleur turned even pinker, much to his delight.

"Blimey, Perce," George said with a wide grin.

"Shut it, George," Percy warned.

"Can I sit on your lap? I've got a long list of things I want for Christmas."

"Shove it."

"Oh, Father Christmas is a bit grumpy. I promise not to wee on your lap."

Percy made a rude gesture, which only encouraged his younger brother.

"Can you do the laugh? No? What about your house elves? Do you treat them fairly? If not, our Miss Granger might have some words for you. Right, Hermione?"

"Erm, George, if I could interrupt," Dad said.

"Please do," Percy muttered.

Dad used his wand to Levitate mugs of eggnog to everybody. Bill couldn't help but noticed the serious set of Dad's eyes. His brothers quieted down, sensing that something important was about to happen. Once everybody had a mug, Arthur cleared his throat and stood.

"Before we go onto the orphanage," he cleared his throat again. "Well, this is one more difficult Christmas to muddle through, isn't it? But we did muddle through and we did it together. I am proud of all of you for the effort it took to make this a nice Christmas, even if our hearts were not in it.

"I am made happy by all the new faces I see around the room. Andromeda, Teddy and Audrey who have become like family in these last months. Mary and Pax, who I hope will become a part of the family as well. Kingsley, Xeno, Luna, lovely Luna." He gave Luna a smile. "But that does not take away from the sadness of all those who are missing. Ted, Tonks, Remus, Mary's husband, Sirius, so many others. And the one closest to my heart, Fred.

"But I know that they would not want us to be sad on a day that should be about family and happiness. Especially when they gave their lives so that we could have this happy day, free from fear. And so my Christmas wish to all of you is that you look to a new year which will hopefully be happier than the one we are leaving.

"And so, here is to a year—a future full of new weddings and new love and new beginnings—"

"And grandchildren!" Mum chimed in, her eye on Bill and Fleur, who, for their part, were avoiding eye contact.

"Yes, that would be nice," Arthur said, "Although, some of you do not need to get started on that any time in the near future. Ginny. Ron."

The two youngest Weasleys turned a bright shade of red, shifting away from their significant others.

"And maybe us old folks can find romance again," Dad said, putting an arm around Mum, but he eyed Andromeda and Kingsley.

Andromeda cleared her throat.

"To the New Year."

"To a better future," said Harry, raising his glass.

"To a better future!" everybody chimed in, raising their glasses.

The End

* * *

A/N2: Merry Christmas!


End file.
